


Hold On a Second

by seeing_blue



Series: Wait, What? [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alaran is Alaran, Also Doughnuts, Alternate Reality of a Sorts, Classical Music, Dimension Travel, Dragon Age AU, Elven Rebellion, F/M, Getting Back to Reality is Hard, Hallah and Deadpool Say Hello!, I Don't Cur, It's Al and Solas, Lord of the Rings, Love Triangle? Love Squiggles?, Mage Rebellion, Modern Thedas, Of Course There's A Rivalmance, Omnipotent Immortals, References For All, Rivalmance, Sass and Snark, Shit Does Get Weird, Skyrim - Freeform, Solas is a Nerd, The Avengers - Freeform, The Vagina Scar, Varric is the Cool Dad Everybody Wants, What is going on, crossovers for days, okay so there may not be as much of a rivalmance as I had first anticipated, wheel of time - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-04-27 16:40:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 140,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5056066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seeing_blue/pseuds/seeing_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alaran and the gang are whirled into a reality that they had always thought was their own, with only snippets of disjointed memories that none of them can really figure out.  Together, they must find the missing pieces and get back to where they belong...before time runs out and everything they know is destroyed.  </p><p>Oh, and who's that strange, tall lady with a Mohawk?  Whoever she may be, she needs to work on her sense of fashion, as well as her weird husband.</p><p>Sequel to "Wait, What?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning of a Not-So-Normal Story

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy, lovelies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For you lovelies.

_"I'm sending postcards from my heart_  
_With love for a postmark and then,_  
_You'll know that you make me_  
_Feel like we've been caught_  
_Like kids in the schoolyard again_  
_And I can't keep it to mys--"_

I rolled over and groped for my phone so I could get it to shut off.  Note to self:  don't make songs I like my morning alarm.  Nothing good will come of it.

My eyes were blurred, so I had to squint to get the stupid thing to disarm.  Yeah, using the word  _disarm_ made my phone sound dangerous.  But in the mornings, it was my worst enemy.  So of course I would use the term.  

I was tempted to just go back to sleep for five more minutes, but my stomach gurgled loudly, demanding that its hunger be satisfied.  So I groaned and untangled myself from the blankets that tried to keep me in their warm embrace and swung my knees over the bed.  My legs prickled with the cold temperature of the hardwood floor.  I scratched my scalp, messing up my already horrendous morning hair even more.  It had been a habit of mine for the longest time.  

Blinking and rubbing my eyes, I shuffled out of my bedroom and into the chilly apartment.  I could distinctly hear Varric's chainsaw snores from behind his door.  I told him he needed to get his broken nose looked at, but oh no, it only added to the coolness.   _Pfft._  

After using the bathroom I groggily pulled off my pajamas and started the shower.  The warm water felt nice, and soon I was awake and washing my white hair and warbling  _Guys and Dolls,_ from the play it was named after, shimmying my hips and using the detachable shower head as a microphone before I accidentally sprayed the ceiling with water.  I made a face and hoped Varric would be asleep long enough for it to drip dry.  Steam clouded the bathroom as I popped open the lid to my lavender scented body wash and squeezed some onto the loofa I was holding.  Then I began scrubbing my skin until it was nice and pink and clean.  Humans, dwarves, and Qunari took showers to clean as well as shave, but since elves didn't have any body hair besides what was on their heads, eyebrows, and eyelashes (if that, even), our showers were typically short and sweet.  

Reluctantly, I turned off the shower and snatched my platypus-covered towel so I could wipe off all the water before I felt the chill.  After wringing my hair a few times, I covered myself and took my pajamas back my bedroom so I could toss it in the takeout box.  Literally.  My laundry basket was in the shape of a giant Chinese takeout box.  Varric only fueled my love for being odd.  For that I was grateful.  

Still humming  _Guys and Dolls,_ I made sure I was completely dry before wrapping my hair in the towel and pumping some lavender lotion into my hand and rubbing on my body.  Yes, I had a thing for lavender.  I was banned from ever lighting a lavender candle in the apartment again from the smoke detector incident of 2013.  Or any candle, for that matter.  Strictly wallflower plug-ins.  No exceptions.  

No.  Not 2013.  9:40 Dragon.  Dammit.  I hated when I did that.  

I slipped on mismatching underwear and a bra before shrugging on a thick burgundy sweater-dress that came down to my thighs.  I then pulled on black wool stockings, silently chastising myself for always putting them on last and not first.  I looked in the mirror to see that everything looked fine, and smirked when I noticed how the dress clung perfectly to my body, showing my leanness as well as the curves I did have.

I fell into my morning routine of getting ready in front of the vanity outside the actual bathroom by brushing my teeth, then doing my makeup first before I dried and straightened or curled my hair.  I could never find foundation light enough for my pale skin, but my face was so smooth and clear anyways that I didn't really need it.  Besides, the light blue  _vallaslin_ that fanned my face in an intricate tree design kind of made wearing foundation look ridiculous on me.  I wasn't a heavy makeup kind of girl, so after lightly lining my upper lid with black liquid eyeliner and applying mascara that covered my silver eyelashes to the world, I was pretty much done.  My berry-colored lips never meshed well with lipstick, so I hardly bothered to put any on at all.  It took only a few minutes to blow dry my hair, after which I chose to curl it.  I was wearing a dress, after all.  Might as well go full-out.  Nobody would know that I just didn't want to wear pants today.  I ran a finger over the patch of white, almost invisible stubble on the left side of my scalp.  I would be fine not shaving it for a few more days.  No, it wasn't the typical hairstyle a classical music major had, but the day I turned eighteen Varric gave me money to go and get it done at a salon as one of my birthday presents.  I had kept it that way ever since, and it was five years past, now.   _  
_

My stomach was belting out an ancient elvhen ballad by the time I made it to the kitchen.  It was a pancakes kind of day, I decided, and stood on my tip-toes to grab the Bisquick mix out of the cupboard.  At least I didn't have to use The Stepping Stool for grabbing things up high, unlike some other dwarves who lived in the apartment.

I returned back to softly singing as I sloppily flipped the pancakes over on the griddle.  I had never mastered the art of tossing them in the air, and Varric had to constantly show off how good he was at it whenever he made any for us.  But I didn't burn them, anymore, so that was a step up.  

I was already pouring on syrup onto my stack of pancakes by the time Varric wandered into the kitchen.  He yawned widely and absently patted his chest.  "Make any for me?" he asked as he automatically began to start a pot of coffee.  His voice was extra gravelly and deep in the mornings.  I jerked a thumb over to the stove behind me, where the rest were waiting.  Varric grabbed a plate and tossed them on, then took a seat on the opposite side of the counter in one of the stools, immediately getting on his phone and typing emails and sending messages and occasionally taking a bite of his breakfast.  I poured syrup on them when he wasn't looking, and I doubt he would ever realize I even had.

"You know, you should really get glasses," I commented when Varric held his phone back to try and see the words better.  "Who knows?  It could just add to your suave and smoothness."

Varric chuckled.  "Nah, Al, I'm not going to be looking like a dad.  I have too many ladies to catch."

I pointed a fork his way.  "One, you basically are a dad when Andraste blessed you with my presence in your life.  And two, there hasn't been a solid lady in your life for years."  There had been Bianca, and oh, how I hated that woman.  She had tried cutting me out from Varric's life.  So, the rational seventeen-year-old I was, made every time she came over to the apartment a miserable experience.  After that didn't work out, Varric hadn't really had a steady girlfriend ever since.   _  
_

"Yeah, yeah," he said, absently waving me off while his eyes were still glued to the small screen of his phone.  

"Get glasses, Varric.  Or I'm going to set up an appointment for you whether you like it or not."  I downed my breakfast in a few more bites.  "Maker knows you've gone without them long enough."  I stood up and washed the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher.  

"Fine," he grumbled.  I poured half a cup of coffee then filled the rest with half-and-half and a spoonful of sugar.  I smelled the enticing aroma and even took a small sip before pushing the mug towards Varric.  I loved coffee, but it always gave me a stomach ache afterwards, so if I was ever to drink any then there had better be a couch or a bed nearby that I could curl up on for an hour or so and wait for the internal storm to pass.  "Thanks, Al," Varric said.  I hummed in return and went back to my bedroom to put on shoes and grab my messenger bag and violin case.  

"Alright, Varric, I'll see you this evening," I called, stopping by the door and putting on my gray, thigh-length trench coat.  Varric looked up from his phone and looked over to me.  Our kitchen and living room were both open, so he could see me off each morning while still sitting at his stool.

He gave me one of his easy, familiar smiles.  "Be safe, Al.  Oh, and I managed to move around my work schedule on Friday, so I'l be able to make it to your concert."

I grinned.  "Awesome."  I hadn't said it out loud, but I was worried Varric wouldn't be able to make it.  Lately his work had been getting the best of him, so it would be good if he got a break.

The music that filled my ears as I walked down the fall street caused my head to start nodding to the beat and walk in a popping step.  The streets of Haven were already crowded with people, all who were in their own little world.  I breathed in the brisk air and felt it sting my airways, which brought a smile to my face.  The trees that lined the street were all colors of yellow and orange and red, and their fallen leaves gently danced on the sidewalk as they were guided by the slight morning breeze.  I mouthed the words of the song I was listening to, uncaring if anybody saw me or not.  I was allowing myself a small moment of happiness.  Nobody could take that away from me.  

Hands tucked in the pockets of my coat, I walked to the Ferelden University campus.  It was only five blocks away, so that was nice.  Varric wanted me to start using my car, by now, but I probably wouldn't even after the first snowfall, which wasn't a long ways away.  He had fussed about me getting mugged when I insisted on walking my first semester, so I was then signed up for private lessons with a former UFC fighter who retired from the ring and instead focused on helping women and men alike learn how to defend themselves.  And lemme tell ya, if Cassandra Pentaghast couldn't lay me flat, then nobody could.  

_Oh, that reminds me.  I need to text Cass and remind her of my concert.  She'll want to come--_

"Get out of the fockin way!"

A body collided into mine and I was sent sprawling, instinctively twisting so I wouldn't land on my violin case.  Still, my head smacked against the pavement and I saw a burst of colors.

 _...never quite the quietest girl—_  
_Her attacks are loud and they're joyful._  
_But she knew the ways of nobler men,_  
_And she knew how to enrage them...  
_

I shook my head of the faint, strange song.  Wow.  I must have been hit harder than I thought.

Rough hands helped me sit up, and I couldn't help but audibly wince.  "Fock--shite--are you okay?"  A blonde city-elf looked down at me in concern.  A black beanie sat on top of her short, asymmetrical haircut, and she wore a blue flannel jacket with a light gray scarf.  Some band that I didn't know the name of was plastered on her visible t-shirt.   

"Yeah, I'm fine," I laughed.  "Just bumped my head, that's all."  

The girl crookedly grinned.  "Tough one, yeah?"  She helped me up before knocking her worn longboard up and into a hand.  She tucked it under her arm and squinted at me.  "Didn't know  _Dalish_ went to school here."

I shrugged off the potential insult.  "Wouldn't know.  Haven't met one, yet."

The elf's nose crinkled in confusion.  "But you're all inked up, yeah.  Doesn't that make you Dalish?"

I prodded my cold face and sucked in a mock gasp.  "Oh!  I  _forgot!_ I _am_  Dalish, aren't I?  My  _vallaslin_ certainly marks me as one, right?"  After a moment I shook my head and chuckled.  "Sorry.  Can I start over on the first impression?"

Surprisingly, she giggled.  "Fockin sassy pants, aren't ya?  That's alright, I like real people, not fake-faces."  She held out her hand.  I gripped it and shook it twice.  "The name's Sera."

"Alaran," I said back with a smirk.  "Do you normally crash into people on your way to school?  Or was this targeted?"  I raised an eyebrow with the question.  

 _"Psh._ You wish.  Nah, mate, I'm great at longboarding.  Best there is this side of the Frostbacks.  'Cept you just came out of nowhere, lookin' like you were dancing.  Probably listenin' to that funky Dalish music, yeah."

I held up an earbud and swung it around in the air a few times.  "Guns 'n' Roses, actually."

"Wot?  Really?"  Sera giggled again.  Well, it wasn't so much as a  _giggle_ as it was a  _troublemaking snicker._ "That's amazin'."

We began walking together.   _She's going to be my friend,_ I thought distantly.  

The typical college questions came around.  "What's your major?" I asked Sera.

"Dunno.  Just gettin' my generals.  Figure I'll know what to do by then.  You?"

"Classical music," I said, shifting the violin strapped on my back.  The campus was in sight.  "Where are you staying?" 

"The Alienage Apartments."

I frowned.  "That's a dump," I said bluntly.  Sera adjusted her small backpack.  

"It really fockin is.  But the rent's cheap and I get hot water, so it's better than nothin'.  What about you?"

I was about to answer, but Sera swore loudly as she glared up at the chiming clock that sat on top of one of the main buildings.  "I gotta go, I'm gonna be late for class."  Sera flashed a wicked grin and slapped her longboard on the ground.  Her black skinny jeans were faded and worn, and her red Vans looked even more raggedy.  "See ya around, Ally."

"Bye, Sera," I said, as if we had already known each other for a long time.  She then spurred herself into motion and coasted, weaving effortlessly through the swarm of other college students.  

I put my music back in and made my way to the Theirin Building.

-

"Hello, Dorian!" I chimed as I walked in through the back of the store.  The owner of  _Pavus Loft_ looked up from the mannequin he was measuring cloth on.  Pins were between his teeth. _  
_

"Hello, Alaran," he managed to greet despite the objects in his mouth.  Dorian quickly stuck the pins in places that would hold the fabric in place.  "How did classes go?"

"Good," I sighed, stepping into the employee bathroom so I could change into my all-black uniform.  "Are you coming to my concert on Friday?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, darling," he called. 

The store I worked for was a small business run by Dorian Pavus, a mage shunned by his family back in Tevinter for being gay.  He came here and in some way Varric found him, then helped him start things up.  Thus the reason why I had the job in the first place.  I didn't technically need it; Varric took care of me and my college expenses, but I wouldn't be sitting around twiddling my thumbs at the apartment all day.  Plus, being with Dorian and his assistant manager Josephine was more like hanging out with friends than working.  "Oh!" I said suddenly as I walked out of the stall and pulling my hair to the side and over my shoulder.  "Did you get to meet Madame de Fer, yet?"

"Yes, I did," Dorian huffed.  "She said my designs weren't  _that bad,_ but they weren't  _eye-catching,_ either.  I have three weeks to come up with a new line to show her before she tosses my existence into the trash bin."

I frowned, but I knew that was Vivienne's personality.  "Varric doesn't call her the Iron Lady for nothing, you know," I said, leaning up against the wall for a bit before I had to go out front and start my shift.  "Is that why you're looking all flustered?"

"Perhaps," Dorian responded sarcastically.  "And I may or may not be imagining that  _Madame de Fer_ is the mannequin and I get to stab her with as many pins I want."

"If you perform blood magic, that could actually work out," I said, waggling my eyebrows.  Dorian rolled his eyes and I laughed.  "Alright, Dorian.  I'll be up front if you need me."  

"Remember to dazzle the customers with your charming personality!"

While some small businesses struggled, Dorian's prospered quite well.  With Varric's connections and Josephine's social networking skills that I swore were actually a superpower, a steady amount of customers always made their way in throughout the day.  On the first floor were Dorian's own line of clothing for both men and women, as well as a few other brands with similar fashion styles as his.  But when one walked up the black metal staircase, they'd find that it was chalk full of second-hand apparel for those who couldn't afford what his own items cost.  Except he, Josie and I were meticulous about what was allowed in and what wasn't.  It was  _vintage,_ not  _ragamuffin_ clothes Dorian wanted.  Most of my wardrobe came from the second floor, and I regretted nothing.

Josie was up front, dressed in all black as well and bagging clothes for a customer.  "Good afternoon, Alaran," she said pleasantly as I entered.

"Hey, Josephine," I said, then began making my rounds of being amiable and courteous to the people in the store, asking if they needed help with anything.  Their eyes always drifted to my  _vallaslin,_ but I had learned to ignore it, by now.  If I was looking at somebody with a face full of tattoos, I would stare as well.  It did get a bit irritating whenever Orlesians came in and called me a rabbit, but I always felt better when I imagined that I was the rabbit from  _Monty Phython's Holy Grail_ and I could tear their throats out with my teeth while still looking cute and adorable.  

My eyes trailed over to the man who entered through the door, the bell on the frame  _dinging_ lightly.  I stopped dead in my tracks, momentarily stunned.

He...

He looked...

He looked like an  _egg._

"Hello," I said to him as I walked over.  "Can I help you with anything?"  He was an elf, and quite tall for one, as a matter of fact.  His stormy, gray-blue eyes looked down at me.  No.  Not me.  My  _vallaslin._

"Yes, actually," he said coolly.  "I would like to speak to your manager."

The statement momentarily took me off-guard, but I quickly found my senses once more.  "Of course!  He's a bit busy, at the moment, but I could tell him..."

I trailed off as the man simply  _strode past me_ with his hands clasped behind his back.  He wore black slacks and an olive green button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up neatly to the elbows.  I watched as Josephine opened her mouth to say something to him, but he ignored her as well and headed to the back.  

The Antivan and I exchanged glances.  "Who  _is_ that?" I hissed to her as I leaned against the black counter.  

"That is Solas, Dorian's...number one customer.  Or what could be considered his number one customer.  As Dorian is the only one who makes clothing that is resistant to being burned, frozen, or electrified by magic, many mages come to him.  Solas is one of them.  Typically he is standoffish, but today..."  Josie looked over her shoulder to the back door.  "I am unsure of what is going on."

I had already gone back to meandering the store and fixing messily folded clothes and putting everything back into the right spot when Dorian and Solas walked through together.  "Alaran!" he called, waving me over.  I kept my face placid as I neared the two.  "Would you be a lamb and help Master Solas in finding a suit while I finish a few things up in the back?  I won't be gone long, I promise."  

_No, Dorian, don't leave me with him--_

But the Vint had already disappeared.  Solas and I looked at each other, and I forced a smile.  "If you just want to follow--" _  
_

"I know quite well where it is," Solas clipped, and began walking smoothly over to the suit section.  

I resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose as I followed.  

This was  _not_ going to be fun.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I really want to write more, but I'm falling asleep, which means that I have to cut the chapter off short so I can close my eyes and think about everything I'm going to be putting into the next chapter. Things will get more interesting, I promise. You know how beginnings are, especially beginnings being written during the wee hours of the morning.


	2. The Big Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al combats all sorts of Sol-assery.

I was the one unfortunate enough to ring Solas up, after what had been the worst two hours of my life.  Not only was he  _picky,_ but he was also an arrogant know-it-all, and more than once I wanted to snap at him that if he knew _so much_ already then he didn't need my help.  But that would mean that Solas would have to go and grab everything from the store himself, which simply couldn't happen.  Whenever my face wasn't composed and cool speaking to him, it was dark and thunderous.  By the time Dorian came back out I had already been through an hour and a half of torture.  He had a dark, navy blue suit tailored for Solas ready to go.  Oh, I would have a talking with the mage once the egg head was gone.

"That'll be three hundred eighty-seven dollars and fifty-four cents," I said with a small smile, hoping that Solas wouldn't make some snide comment about the price.  

Instead he merely pulled out a black leather wallet and slid out a very fancy-looking credit card and ran it through the machine, tapping once and signing his name with the electronic pen.  Once the receipt came I handed it to him and then began putting on the plastic cover over the clothes he would be taking with him.  I considered shoving them all in a bag--suit included--but Dorian would have burnt me to a little bacon crisp if I had.  This  _was_ his best customer, after all.

And he was my worst enemy.

"There you go, ser," I smiled cordially, holding out his newly-purchased business attire.  Solas returned his wallet to his pocket and took it.

Instead of saying a simple "thank you" like any normal person was, Solas said, "I am surprised a Dalish such as yourself chose to work such an average job.  I thought your people did not like serving others, proud as they are."

"The only proud person I know in this store is you, ser," I said before I could stop myself.  The same cordial smile still played on my lips, but my eyes were glowering.   _What, did you think I wouldn't know what your name meant?  You dillhole._  

Solas' jaw clenched slightly, and the tips of his ears turned a slight pink.   _Yeah, you feel embarrassed.  You don't know anything about me, you self-righteous son of a--_

Dorian popped his head through the back door.  "So I'll see you on Friday, Solas?" he asked.  The elf's eyes flickered from me to him.

"Ah.  Yes," Solas responded with a brief nod.  

My eyebrows furrowed and I looked back to Dorian.  Before I could say anything he gave me a knowing, sassy look.  

"Don't worry, darling, it won't get in the way of your concert," he assured.  I only realized I had tensed up when my body relaxed.  He turned his attention back to Solas, a smile playing beneath his mustache.  "From the way you're looking, Solas, I can only imagine that you've received a lightning strike from Alaran."

I refused to be guilty.  "Of course you would only condone such...behavior," Solas mused, the last word dripping with sarcasm.  

_Oh, I'm going to crack your head open and make me some scrambled eggs, you mother f--_

Dorian waved him off.  "She brings a breath of fresh air to this place.  Maybe if you weren't so  _particular,_ you could see that."

Solas huffed, but it held no chagrin.  Oh, so Dorian could insult him but I couldn't?  What a jackass.  "Good day, Master Pavus."  His eyes passed over me for a moment, but this time he at least looked me in the eyes and not at my blood wring.  Then Solas turned on his heels and walked out, the bell dinging cheerfully at his departure.

As soon as he disappeared around the corner I whirled on Dorian.  It was near closing time, which meant Solas had most likely been the last customer.  I gestured wildly and made a choking noise for him to explain.

Dorian languidly walked fully through the door and leaned back onto the counter.  Today he wore a dark gray suit vest and matching slacks that fit perfectly to his bod and a lighter gray shirt underneath, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  A dark purple bow tie nestled at he top of his collar.  As always, his hair and mustache were immaculate.  

He crossed his arms and chuckled.  "I knew you two would get along great."

"You did that on purpose," I growled, but it was without anger.  

"Of course I did!  My day had to be brightened somehow!"

I shook my head and sighed.  "You know, I thought you were high maintenance until I had to cater to that elitist poopstain.  So I guess I have a better perspective on things."  I heavily shrugged my shoulders.  "What were you two doing, anyways?  If I may ask." _  
_

"Just some mage stuff.  Nothing that you need to be concerned about," Dorian winked.  He looked at his fancy wristwatch.  "Why don't you clock out early?  I doubt anybody will come these last fifteen minutes."

That made me smile.  "Thanks, Dorian.  You're such a nice boss."

"Yes, it's as much of a burden as it is a blessing," he said airily, putting a hand to his heart.

I stood on my tiptoes and gave the Tevinter a kiss on the cheek before leaving.  The sun had already dipped below the horizon, but the day was still bright with golden and pink rays that at least gave the idea of warmth, even if the actual temperature was anything but.  I began the cold walk home.   _Pavus Loft_ was seven blocks away from the apartment, which didn't seem so bad, except I was getting  _really_ cold.  Maybe I should start using the car, at least when I went to work.  There was a three hour gap between school and when my shift started, which gave me time to grab my work clothes and something to eat before I headed out again.

By the time I made it home I could see my breath in front of my face, my teeth were chattering, and my feet and fingers were numb.  I wouldn't make the same mistake twice.  Tomorrow I'd definitely be taking my car.

I could hear the television blaring some sports game when I opened the door.  The smell of pizza immediately wafted to my nostrils and made my stomach rumble.  I was always hungry.  Always.  

"Hey, Al!" Hawke said as he sat at the couch, a few slices of pepperoni pizza on a plate that rested on the coffee table and a beer in his hand.

"Hey!" I said as I took out my music and hung up my jacket on the coat rack.  Ah, Garret Hawke, the best friend of Varric Tethras and the kind of man who just shows up to our apartment without notice or explanation on a regular basis. I loved Hawke, though.  Everybody loved Hawke.  Except for Hawke.  But Varric and I would never say anything like that out loud.  Past all the sarcasm and laughter and joking, Hawke was suffering.  

I made a beeline for the two boxes of pizza.  "Did you get me--" I started to say.

"Meatlovers?  Alaran, do you think I don't know you at all?" Hawke finished, then acted mock-hurt.  I rolled my eyes at him and grabbed a plate, opening the untouched pizza box and making a  _hue hue hue_ laugh when I saw the deliciousness waiting for me.  I piled four slices on, but before I joined the lead singer of the Champions of Kirkwall I poured myself a glass of white grape peach juice.  It was the nectar of the gods.

_The elven gods didn't drink nectar._

I brushed the thought aside and sat down on the dark brown couch.  It was particularly large and squishy, and was shaped like an L.  I took off my shoes before eating, curling my toes in delight at the freedom they could now experience.  "How was work?" Hawke asked, then angrily cursed at the rugby game going on.  "Aw, come on!  That was bullshit!"

"Well, work wasn't much better," I snickered, then took a savory bite of pizza.  He looked over at me with a raised black eyebrow.

"Really?  But you love where you work."

"It wasn't so much that work sucked, but one particular customer made it miserable."

He nodded in understanding.  "People can be assholes.  What was the lady like?"

"It was a guy, actually."

Hawke groaned a laugh.  "That's even worse!"

His laughter made me do the same.  "I know, right?  So this guy--who's an _elf_ , by the way--purposefully made me feel like I was inept at helping him.  I would have complained to Dorian how he was treating me, but turns out he's one of the store's best customers.  The two of them did mage-y stuff in the back of the store, I'm sure.  If not more.  I couldn't quite tell which way he swung.  But anyways, I'm ringing Solas up--that's his name--and he comments about it being surprising that a Dalish would ever be working a regular job, since we're so proud."

 _"Please_ tell me you said something back."  Hawke's attention was completely on me, now, the game forgotten.  He was always good at making people feel like they were being listened to, and, as a result, like they mattered.

"With the most polite smile I could muster, I told him that the only one in the store that was proud was him," I told him with a smirk.  "I even added a 'ser' to the end, too."

Hawke laughed and raised his hand for me to high-five.  Our hands slapped resoundingly together.  We turned our attention back to the game.  "Who's playing?" I asked as I lifted my second slice of pizza to my mouth.  

"The Denerim Dracolisks and the Avvar Great Bears."

"Freak yeah, I love the Great Bears," I said.  

"No, you just love the Sky Watcher."

"True, true.  But because I love him I love the Great Bears."  

"Yeah, I like 'em better than Denerim.  There aren't even any dracolisks there!"

About thirty minutes later Varric entered the apartment, talking on the phone.  Hawke and I silently waved at him while his friend turned the volume of the game down.  Varric made his way to his office, but not before grabbing a slice of pizza.  

When we heard his office door close Hawke said, "He's been working a lot lately, hasn't he?"

I gave a nod and finished the rest of my juice.  "Yeah.  Tonight's the first night he's come home before eight the past three weeks."

"Will he be able to make it to your concert?"

"I think so.  He said he could, but a small part of me is just waiting for something to come up and get in the way."

Hawke gave me a reassuring smile.  "And since when has Varric ever missed a  _single_ one of your events?"

I didn't have to think long about the question.  "Never," I sighed, but the thought did make me feel better.

After a while I got out of my clothes and into some pajamas for the night.  It was a Monday; I wasn't going anywhere special.  And the rest of the week was going to be hectic in preparation for the concert, so I decided to take what little moment of rest I could get before everything turned into a chaotic whirlwind.

I ended up falling asleep with my head on Hawke's lap.

-

_Acrid smoke filled my lungs.  I wanted to scream, but my lungs wouldn't allow me to do so.  I pushed myself up, softly crying out as I looked at my bloody palm.  It throbbed with pain.  Then my eyes lifted to the wreckage all around me._

_Moans, screams, wails, and prayers filled my ears, as well as the sounds of sirens.  My eyes slowly moved to the left, where bodies littered the ground.  They moved to the right, and I saw the same.  I could hardly recognize who they used to be.  Too many of them had their eyes open why were their eyes open there was nothing in those eyes--_

"...Alaran!"

I jolted awake and immediately flailed against who was gripping me, my breathing raw and ragged.  Then I smelt Hawke's cologne and I calmed.  "It was just a dream," he said lowly as I pressed my forehead to his chest.

"It was just a dream," I repeated.   _No.  It wasn't.  It was memory.  I could recall every detail in vivid detail.  I would never forget those faces, those bodies, those sounds and those smells._

Still, I curled up next to Hawke, who put a protective arm around me.  I clutched the fabric of his t-shirt so my hands wouldn't shake.  Together we watched a documentary on illegal Carta trade.  About halfway through Hawke asked, "Do you want to talk about it?" _  
_

"No," I said automatically.

"Al..."

"It's already been said, Garret.  And besides, it's been a year.  I'll be fine."  I softly pulled away and kissed him on the cheek, then gave him a small smile.  "And I think I'll go to sleep."

"Just when the party's arrived?" Varric said as he came through the hallway.  He took a seat on the couch, sighing contentedly.  I grabbed my phone and checked the time.   _11:43 PM._

"Yeah no you guys have fun," I said, crawling up the back of the couch and rolling over the edge, landing lightly on my feet.  I made my way to my room and flopped on the bed.  

I tried to go straight to sleep, but my hand ached too much for me to do so.  The psychiatrist told me it was just a phantom pain, but it didn't feel that way.   _Out of all the ways it had to get torn up, it had to scar looking like a vagina,_ I thought bitterly as I curled my body around it.

-

As soon as light was reflected in my eye from a gleaming bald head, I turned and walked up the stairs to the second floor.  Nope.  Nopety nope nope.  Not today.  Why,  _why_ couldn't Dorian see him another time?

"Where is Master Pavus?"

I froze at the question asked to me by a lilting voice.  Slowly I turned and looked down at Solas, who was standing at the foot of the stairs, in his usual stance with his hands clasped behind his back.  Today he wore gray suit pants and a white button-up shirt with a black belt and a dark, glossy blue tie.  "He had to go out," I responded.  

"And when will he be back?"

"I don't know.  Dorian likes to take his time going on a doughnut run," I shrugged.  Solas' jaw twitched.  It was as if he was angry at me for telling him the truth.  

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his ridiculousness.  I was so freaking tired.  I had been going since five in the morning, my fingers were sore from practicing my violin piece for the concert that was _this evening,_ my nerves were at an all-time high _,_ and my feet hurt from being on them constantly.  "You can wait in the back, if you'd like," I simply said.  "I'm sure Dorian wouldn't mind." _  
_

Solas curtly nodded and strode off.  I let out a breath and went back to work, but I couldn't really focus.  I ended up just wandering aimlessly, my fingers twitching from muscle memory.  I could already feel the strings beneath them.  And where  _was_ Dorian?  He had to get me ready for tonight.  If that Tevinter got himself into a car wreck or something I swear--

"He's back, Alaran," Josephine sighed as she walked out from the back.  "You can stop polishing the floor with your feet."  She soon broke out into a smile.  "Oh, I simply cannot wait to see you perform!  You will be--"

 _"Ssssshhhhh,_ don't say it," I hissed, nearly leaping over the counter to cover her mouth with my hand.  "You know the rules, Josie."

She shook her head and closed her eyes as she gave a muffled chuckle, then gently pushed my hand away.  "I apologize.  But you have to admit that your...rules...are a tad strange."

"Josie," I smirked as I made my way around to enter the back room.  "When have I ever been considered normal?"

"Point taken."

I had my hand on the doorknob when I realized that Solas was still in there.  I paused, weighing what would happen if I burst in.

_Eh, screw it._

I stepped through.  "Dorian, I hate to be pain, but..."

Solas' ears turned bright pink and he locked in place.  Dorian had the elf's pants currently under his sewing machine, which meant that the elf himself lacked any.  His white shirt covered most of his nether regions, but I could still see black briefs peeking out from under the fabric.  His legs were firm and toned, like how a runner's legs would look.  

"Ah!  Alaran!" Dorian called, speaking as if he didn't have a trouserless man in the room.  "I'm so sorry, darling.  Let me finish stitching up a hem and then we'll get started on making you look extravagant, yes?"

"Did he even buy you dinner, first?" I asked Solas with a raised eyebrow, making my way to an empty chair.  Dorian barked a laugh.

"Dinner  _and_ brunch!  He's quite good at playing hard-to-get."

 _"Dorian,"_ Solas said exasperatedly.  "Would you please hurry?"

"Oh, don't worry, Solas, Alaran won't mind your partial nudity.  And do you know how hard it is to sew in fade-touched thread?  No, you don't, so stand there and look pretty while do my work."

"Aw," I said, glancing down at his feet.  "You even still have your socks on.  How cute."

The blush crept from Solas' ears to his cheekbones.  My smirk grew.  

"Now, now, play nice," Dorian muttered absently.  "Wouldn't want bad karma or anything hitting you when you're on stage."

"Don't say that," I groaned, and leaned my head back against the white brick wall.  "Now I'm even more terrified."

"Darling, you'll be magnificent."

I looked down at the scar on my hand.  "Before I go, could you put some magic on my hand?"

"Scar acting up?"

"Yeah."  I flexed my fingers a few times, turtle-frowning at the sight.  "Maker take you, vagina hand."

Solas made a slight noise of surprise, but that turned my attention to him.  "Have something insulting to say?" I asked airily.  

The barest tilt of the head.  A stormy flash of the eyes.  A challenge.  I smirked.  

"I was not aware that the Dalish used shemlen terminology.  Typically it would be their Creators that they used as forms of expression."

"Well, you know, when you're exiled from your Dalish clan and abandoned by your parents, you tend to head the other way when it comes to that," I said, my voice turning to sharp steel despite the smirk still twisting my lips.  Solas' mouth opened instinctively, then clamped shut when my words sunk in.  

"Solas, even  _I_ saw that trap, and I'm the one with my back turned," Dorian commented over the thrum of the sewing machine.  He pumped his foot a few more times on the pedal before sweeping the pants up and holding them out for the world to see.  "There!  All finished.  Aren't I the best mage tailor around?  You don't have to answer when we know it's all true."  He handed the trousers back to Solas, who snatched them hastily away and shoved his legs through so he could cover himself.  

I stood, preparing to be dressed to impress thousands.  "There's one thing that I might add," Dorian said as he unzipped my dress from one of his many mannequins that were creepily placed throughout the room.  "Solas and I still have business to conclude after I'm finished getting you ready, so he'll be staying throughout."

My smirk vanished and I slid my eyes back to Solas, who was now taking up a seat himself.  There was undoubtedly a smug expression on his face.  "What business?"  I had directed a particularly nasty insult involving egg beaters, thumbs, and staves into a question.  "Nothing illegal, I hope?"

Dorian feigned being affronted.  "Why, Alaran, how could you ever think of  _us_ doing something against the law that we so religiously uphold?"

I stared at him flatly.  "Okay.  It's illegal.  Magical?"  A pause.  I ran a hand through my hair.  "Magical.  Of course it has be that."  I shook my head and waved my hands submissively in the air.  "Whatever.  I don't care.  Just don't let the cops find out--or worse, the Templars."

Dorian huffed.  "Don't you remember me telling you  _not_ to do that whole reading people thing?"

"Yes, I do," I pointed out, my smirk returning as Dorian gave me the dress.  I headed over to one of the dressing stalls.  "I just chose not to heed your pleas."

"Brat."

I pulled the curtain shut.  "Bastard."

We both snickered.

I slipped out of my clothes, then examined the dress more closely, a frown forming.  "Dorian," I said in a raised voice.  "How am I supposed to wear a bra with this?"

"You're not," Dorian responded.  I groaned.  He ignored me.  "Don't worry, nothing unpleasant will poke through.  I put the right amount of padding and lifting to give you a little aid in areas where you are lacking."

"Heyy," I protested as I tugged on the dress.  "My  _areas_ are perfectly fine, thank you.  Now come zip me up, please."

Without announcing himself, Dorian threw open the curtain and smoothly zipped the back of the dress in one fluid motion.  He then spun me around, beaming as he did looked up and down at his masterpiece.  "I'm just too good, aren't I?"

"Not according to Madame de Fer," I couldn't help but say teasingly.  That brought him down a notch.  He curled his lip at me.

I was seated in front of a vanity mirror and sat nice and still while Dorian applied makeup to my eyes and tinted my lips.  When I could finally look at my reflection he was already using a thick wand to shape my hair into soft curls.  I had to smile at how I looked.  It was...damn.

Perfectly balanced and symmetrical smoky eyes made my lids glitter faintly, and delicate flicks of eyeliner dashed out above the corners.  More smudged black pencil liner rimmed my bottom lid.  My eyelashes fanned up and outwards.  The whole thing intensified my saturated violet eyes.  Seriously, though.  Why were they so  _bright?_

Dorian had also managed to get some blush on me without making it look ridiculous with my  _vallaslin,_ which brought out my sharp cheekbones.  My lips had been painted in dark red, which neared black towards the center.  Once my hair had been curled, he pulled it over my exposed shoulder and twirled his mustache proudly.  "I  _am_ good," he said silkily. I grinned, exposing polished white teeth that I had purposefully treated so they would lose their almost-yellow color.  

"Yes, yes you are," I agreed, and stood up to examine myself in the mirror.  

The dress was composed completely out of black lace, and underneath was a matching black, silky material.  It hugged my body tightly, but gave me enough room to be able to perform.  The left side of my arm had a long sleeve, while the other that was my bow arm was bare.  The dress relaxed after it passed my butt and hips and swept loosely to the floor.  Once I put heels on it would hardly drag at all, and would neither pose a threat to me tripping and falling over it.  Dorian produced the elegant black heels that he helped me put on.  

Once I had the silver, fake diamond jeweled earrings in that dangled a bit past my earlobes did the realization sink in.  "Alaran," Dorian smiled, "you will be  _fine._ I am positive that you'll--"

My hand whipped out to cover his mouth.  "What is  _with_ everybody today?" I hissed.  "Are you trying to get me to perform badly?"

Unlike Josephine's gentle touch earlier, Dorian smacked my hand away from his mouth.   _"Fine._ You will be absolutely horrible and nobody will like what you play."

 _"Whew._ Thanks," I said genuinely.  The mage snorted.  

"I wouldn't be concerned for your state of mental health, if I were any normal person who hardly knew you.  But, since I'm not, I think I can safely say that your rituals before anytime you perform are  _quite_ disconcerting," Dorian said as he helped me put on my red wool coat that swept down to my thighs.  I tipped my head to the side and my eyebrows drew together.   _The red coat.  It was indestructible._

 _Gah!_ My nerves were just getting to the better of me.

"And it's those disconcerting rituals that'll help me become legendary," I grinned.  I picked up my violin case.  I hadn't left it in my car because of how cold the weather had become.  

Dorian hugged me, anyways.  "I'll see you after the concert, darling," he said.  We let go.

"Good.  You know where you're sitting?  It'll be up in one of the stage boxes."

"Of course it would be!  I can only have the best."

We said our goodbyes after he applied some soothing magic to my hand, and I headed out into the cold night to my car.  My hands shook as I put the key into the ignition, but it wasn't from how frigid it was.

I was scared out of my mind.

But, I wouldn't let anybody see that fact.  

-

The symphony orchestra finished out their last piece.  I forced myself to steady my breathing.   _I wouldn't be able to see the crowd, anyways.  It'll be just like rehearsal._

The thunderous applause told me otherwise.  

It had already been announced that I would be performing at the beginning of the concert, so when the lights on the orchestra dimmed and focused in a single spot at the center of the stage, I knew it was my cue.  

My shoulders thrust themselves back and I walked out confidently.  I was greeted with more applause, though I heard some definite murmuring.  I knew what the whispers were.   _So she really is Dalish!  Look at those markings on her face!  And the ears!  Who knew a rabbit could actually play a civilized instrument, let alone have a solo!_

I would show them just what a rabbit such as myself could do.

The bow touched the strings perfectly, and I saw tiny specks of dust particles float around the wood of my dark violin.  I took a small breath, then knew that I would do amazing.  And what happens when I know I'll do amazing?

I smirked.

It was faint, and unless somebody knew me they probably didn't catch it at all.  But doing so made the whole world snap into place, and my arm suddenly began flying across the strings, fingers tapping and pressing to change the notes at incredibly fast speeds.  I didn't remember the piece; I knew it by heart, mind, and soul.  It was my own work that required hours of exhausting revisions and criticism be put into it, but as I stood on the stage, feeling  _joyous_ as I brought music forth into the world, I was glad the time had put in to better it.  

I was the Master Commander of this stage.  It was me who, for the seven minutes and twenty-two seconds that was my piece, had total control of the emotions the audience was experiencing.  They would be bringing up memories, both good and bad, as they listened to my music.  

Everything, from the way my heart pounded to the small bead of sweat that gathered on my brow to the protest of movement in my left wrist, I was hyper aware of up until my bow and my strings separated from each other.  Then all I was aware of was the deafening applause I received.  Through the bright light I could see the multitudes stand on their feet.  Elation swelled in my chest, and I bowed.  My eyes shifted upwards to the stage box, where I saw Varric and Hawke and Dorian all standing and clapping.  There were more figures behind them, but I couldn't see that well with the lights blaring down on me.  After a few more seconds of standing there and grinning, I exited the stage.  The curtains then drew close to signal that the concert was officially over.

I had barely put my violin in its case when the door to the room I was waiting in burst open.

Varric crushed my waist in a big hug.  "Al, that was  _spectacular!"_ he exclaimed happily, looking up at me proudly.  He was dressed in a black pinstriped vest with matching pants, and a lavender colored shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal his chest hair.  I grinned.  He had chosen the shade for me.  

Hawke was the next to lift me off my feet, planting a big kiss on my cheek and scratching my skin with his coarse facial hair.  "Completely amazing!"  Even he managed to get dressed up, except that it only meant khakis and a white button-up.  Still, it was plenty enough for me.

"Put me down, you goober," I laughed.  Josephine was the next to come in, accompanied by Cassandra.  The two had actually turned out to be good friends, surprisingly.  While Josephine was wearing a nice yellow dress that went well with her dark skin, Cassandra had on black slacks and a royal blue colored blouse.  

"That was..." Josephine began, then giggled.  "Well, I am speechless!  That's how good it was!"

"Now I can understand why you couldn't come to sessions as often," Cassandra said wryly in her thick Nevarran accent.  That was her way of telling me I did great.  I hugged the both of them and thanked them for coming, and the four of us talked for a short while before the Iron Lady herself glided in.

"My dear, that was breathtaking," she said.  Vivienne never really  _exclaimed_ anything.  If she ever did, it was to be mocking and condescending.  So I knew she was being truthful when she said that to me.  She had a bouquet of roses for me, so I took those and inhaled the flowery scent.  Not lavender, but still quite nice.  She had worn a white dress that only she could pull off, with its silver and blue accents and the plunging neckline.

"Thanks, Viv," I grinned, and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"And your dress, my dear, is it one of Dorian's makings?" Vivienne asked as she examined it meticulously.

"Yes," I said, a hint of wariness in my voice.  

"Hm.  I quite like it."

Oh, I couldn't  _wait_ to tell Dorian.

"Speak of the--" I started to say when Dorian grandly entered, but faltered when he was followed by one tall, particular elf who had his hands clasped behind his back.  

Our eyes met.

Mine narrowed.

_What.  The.  Poop._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter down! And once again I'm staying up into the wee hours of the morning to write this. Seriously, though, I'm willing to lose sleep if it meant I got to post another chapter. Just pardon the grammatical errors, if you see any. My eyesight is a little blurry.
> 
> Stay lovly
> 
> Lvley
> 
> Dammit.
> 
> Lovily
> 
> LOVELY. Whew. Still gt itt.
> 
> Oh cmme non!


	3. Assumptions Make Asses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Solas' POV.

Everything about her was... _sharp._ From the way she walked to her facial features to her bright violet eyes, it all threatened to cut something if she deemed it fit.  

And, apparently, Solas was one of them.

 _Maybe_ he deserved some of it.  When she had first greeted him in Dorian's store, Solas hadn't acted the kindest, true.  But he had important information to share with Dorian, and was in dire need of a new suit.  His other one had been...well...it was best not to dwell on the past.  

Alaran was her name.  Strange.  For being Dalish, it wasn't a Dalish name.  And she was obviously Dalish from the sky blue Mythal _vallaslin_ she brandished for the world to see.  In fact, her name had no hint of elven origins whatsoever.  Still, it surprised Solas that she was so willing to help, and remained cool when he purposefully was rude to her.  It was only afterwards, when he lie alone in his bed, that he realized his test to see if she would say something he could immediately attack had been downright cruel.  

But, Alaran _had_ gotten a particularly barbed jab at Solas.  It infuriated him that she managed to make his ears grow warm when  _she_ was the one who was behind a store counter ringing up his bill.  For once, Solas was completely hopeless in coming up with a retort.  That blasted, courteous smile was distracting enough, but those eyes were the ones that looked as if they were going to murder him.   _  
_

Dorian didn't make it any better.  A "lightning strike" was what he called it.  Alaran had only continued to stand there without an ounce of remorse or embarrassment showing on her angular face.  Her eyebrows did furrow when Dorian mentioned that he and Solas would be meeting again on Friday, and there was mention of a concert.  A Dalish elf?  Performing in a concert?  In front of shemlens?  How odd.  

Solas brushed the thought away.  It was most likely for some low-rate progressive alternative band with poor taste in music, from the looks of her hair.  

The week quickly moved by, and between his job and managing the underground network of apostates who all answered to him and Dorian, who in turn answered to those above them, Solas soon found himself walking into  _Pavus Loft_ once more.  Except, Dorian hadn't been answering his phone all day, which worried Solas more than it irritated him.  A thousand things could have happened.  The Templars could have found them, or one of their lesser upstanding contacts could have come demanding for a new terms of agreement, or--

A  _doughnut_ run.  

Of course.  Solas should have automatically jumped to that conclusion.  For both their sake, the Tevinter had better bought at least one for him.

Alaran instructed for him to wait for Dorian in the back.  There were shadows under her violet eyes, and her dark lips were drawn into a thin line.  Basically, it read:   _I'm not dealing with any of your shit today._

Ah, yes.  It was Friday.  Whatever concert she was in would be this evening.  Solas checked his watch as he made his way to the back room, which was filled to the brim with eerie mannequins striking all sorts of poses, dressed in Dorian's clothes.   _4:37 PM._

Dorian didn't actually arrive until ten past five.  What he had been doing, Solas had no idea, but his questions faded when his associate brandished the box of a dozen doughnuts in his arms out to the elf.  "I went halfway across Haven for this," Dorian said as if he was expecting applause to follow.  "Just had one of those cravings."  The Tevinter's mustache twitched in amusement.  "And from the look on your face, I'm imagining you do, too."

Solas plucked a chocolate-glazed doughnut that had some sort of filling at the center.  "I had to skip lunch," he said as he nibbled on the soft edges, resisting the urge to close his eyes and make a pleased noise.  He knew exactly where these doughnuts came from.   _Lace's Bakery Shoppe._ It was one of his favorite places to go, whenever he had the time to.  But that was seldom to come by, nowadays.  

"My dear Solas, that's not good for your health," Dorian chastised as he set the box on a nearby table before snatching a maple bar flecked with almond shavings.  "And with that body you have to maintain, it could possibly be quite devastating."

Solas indulged in rolling his eyes at Dorian.  Too often did he have to keep himself from ding so.  "My body is none of your concern, Dorian."

The mage raised a preened eyebrow.  "Oh?  But I do believe it is, Solas.  I am the one who clothes it, after all."

That much was true.  Which reminded Solas...

"I snagged the hem of my pants on one of the eluvians, today," he spoke through a mouthful of the pastry, which was now oozing a sweet raspberry filling.  "Would you repairing it before we get started?"  He crossed his ankle over his leg so Dorian could take a closer look at it.  

"Oh, my, that's more than a  _snag,_ " Dorian evaluated.  "It'll take more than just pulling a needle and thread through it a few times.  I'll have to put it under the sewing machine."  He popped the last bit of his doughnut in his mouth before straightening.  "Pants.  Off."

Solas stared at him flatly.  "Dorian."

"Oh, I am so relieved you still remember my name!  Had me worried there for a moment," said Dorian sardonically.  "But really.  It'll only take a short while.  And this is one of your favorite pairs of pants, is it not?"

It was.  

Sighing and eating the last of his own doughnut, he took off his shoes, then stood and unbuckled his belt, the metal clinging lightly against itself as he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.  He pulled his legs out and stood there in his shirt, tie and briefs.  Solas handed over the slacks to Dorian.  He was secretly glad he had chosen against wearing the bright green boxers decorated with nugs his Secret Satinalia had gotten him two years ago.  Though he would never admit it aloud, Solas took great joy in wearing them whenever he did.

Dorian hummed as he started up the sewing machine and fixed a spool of thread to begin repairing Solas' pants.  He hoped that nobody would come barging in, otherwise this would be quite the awkward--

The door did, in fact, burst open, and Alaran strode in.  "Dorian, I hate to be a pain, but..."  She trailed off as she took in the view of Solas standing there.  He froze and humiliation made his ears turn hot.  A bemused look momentarily passed her face before composing itself.  Solas wanted to go and die.   _Never_ in all his thirty-four years had he been caught in such an embarrassing situation.

At least now he was  _extremely_ glad he hadn't worn his nug boxers.  

Alaran had asked him a question, but Solas didn't quite catch it.  He was still reeling from the fact that the girl who he had an acquired a distaste for--and she for him, he was sure--casually took up a spot in a chair by the wall, chatting briefly with Dorian before her eyes moved back to him.  He had regained some sense of himself in time to hear Alaran say, "Aw, you even still have your socks on.  How cute."  Her violet eyes glanced down at his socks and she smirked.  It riled Solas, and he considered showing her the magical qualities he possessed.  Maybe singeing off one that raised, silver, manicured eyebrow she most likely prided herself with?  Or perhaps giving the tip of her nose frostbite?  It would make up for the fact that she had caused his blush to move into his cheeks as well. 

Dorian intervened for both of their sake, and Alaran moved past Solas, her comment forgotten.  He breathed slowly through his nostrils, and instead focused a glare he hoped Alaran would feel.  But if she did, she made no notion of noticing.  She looked down at her hand and scrunched her nose up, asking Dorian if he could apply some healing magic on her palm before she left that night.

"Maker take you, vagina hand," Alaran mumbled bitterly, her lip curling in disdain.  

Solas couldn't help but make a surprised noise.  Not only had she used the words Maker and vagina, but she had used it in one sentence.  And why was it on her hand?  Solas had questions immediately spring into his mind, but before he could fully formulate them Alaran's voice cut through his sensibility.  

"Have something insulting to say?"

He tilted his head slightly.  Oh, he had  _many_ insulting things to say, but Alaran seemed to be a good friend of Dorian's, and as much as he was reluctant to admit it, Dorian was his, as well.  One of his very few, quite frankly.  He didn't want to disrupt that.  

"I was not aware that the Dalish used shemlen terminology." Solas said smoothly.  It was the best he could say without sounding outright offensive.  But even then he knew it still had a degree of offensiveness.  Solas couldn't keep his mouth shut.  She was just so... _infuriating._ Especially with that smirk twisting her lips and exposing a dimple without its matching pair.  "Typically it would be their Creators that they used as forms of expression."

Her response was without delay, and silently Solas cursed himself in forgetting that she _also_ had a sharp wit.  "Well, you know, when you're exiled from your Dalish clan and abandoned by your parents, you tend to head the other way when it comes to that."  Her smirk didn't lessen a centimeter, yet her voice had become cold and steely.  Solas was already beginning to answer before she finished her statement, but then the words hit him.

_...Fenedhis._

Dorian diffused the situation and saved Solas from digging his grave even deeper, and granted the mercy of giving him his pants back.  Solas could feel the slight tingle of magic from where it had been repaired.  He hastily and a bit clumsily dressed himself, stuffing in his white shirt and then securely buckling the belt.  But oh, did he relish in seeing Alaran's face fall when Dorian informed her of Solas staying throughout the time he was going to get her ready.  He didn't exactly  _why_ she needed somebody to dress her, seeing as she most likely played for an underground band that despised anything mainstream and turned their noses up at professional care.

It was only when Dorian took the exquisite black lace dress off one of his numerous mannequins did Solas realize that perhaps he had been wrong to assume such.  He handed it to Alaran, who went into one of the makeshift changing rooms with a curtain for a door.  Solas had to focus on his hands so he wouldn't accidentally see a flash of porcelain skin between the slits that the drapery wouldn't conceal.  When Alaran called for Dorian, Solas involuntarily drew his eyes up.  It was a mistake, because the Tevinter unashamedly threw the curtain open.  Solas was glad both of their backs were to him so they didn't see his ears turn red.  He had just caught sight of nearly her entire bare back.  The zipper of the dress dipped low enough to reveal a bit of lacy turquoise underwear.  And he did  _not_ need to know that Alaran had dimples on her lower back as well as on her face.  

The dress shaped Alaran's sharp body into an elegant form.  The black lace swept over one shoulder and under the other, exposing flawless skin and an angular collarbone.  Solas scrolled through his phone so he wouldn't stare, but for some reason unbeknownst to him he lacked total control over his eyes.  They kept drifting over to Alaran, who was looking less like the insolent girl he knew her to be and more like a film star.  The vanity lights made her white, expertly curled hair faintly glow, and now her smirk was defined by the dark red lipstick Dorian had put on.

Solas fancied himself in being an observant person.  He always had to be.  Yet he had failed to see the sleek violin case propped in the corner that Alaran picked up before saying farewell to her boss.  She glanced one final time at Solas reprovingly before pushing through the back exit and into the night.

Dorian spun around, clapping his hands and rubbing them together.  "Let's get to some illegal magical work, shall we?"

-

"No."

The Tevinter huffed.  "When was the last time you went out of your apartment  _after_ six-thirty?"

Solas met him with a level gaze.  "Dorian," he said firmly, "I am not going to the concert."

"Is it because you don't have a suit jacket?  Solas, I have more suit jackets than I've had boyfriends!  Which is saying  _quite_ a lot."

"I highly doubt Alaran would welcome my presence there," Solas replied.  

Dorian wasn't fazed.  Instead he glided over to yet another one of his mannequins and plucked off a black jacket.  Solas stood from his seat, his legs groaning in protest as he did so.  The box of doughnuts sat empty in front of him.  And what a pleasant dinner it had been, too.  "Oh, come now, she only hates you  _slightly._ That's better than most feelings others express towards you."  Dorian handed out the jacket to Solas.  He didn't take it.  

"And what of a ticket?" Solas asked in an attempt to deter his friend.  It backfired; that only made Dorian think he wanted to go.  Two tickets were suddenly produced in the necromancer's hands.  

"Alaran always gives us a spare," he smirked.

Solas sighed.  He wasn't getting out of this one.  

So he donned the suit jacket, feeling the magic that had literally been sewn into it.  Dorian beamed.

He shouldn't be doing this.  He really shouldn't.

The mantra echoed in Solas' mind as he and Dorian walked out into the night, taking the latter's car to the symphony hall.

Most of the stage box was already filled with various silhouettes by the time they got there.  The orchestra had already begun playing.  The slight noises they made turned some of the heads in front of them.  Solas recognized Josephine, who looked pleasantly surprised at seeing him, but gave a friendly smile.  Another man with a trimmed beard furrowed his eyebrows at Solas in exaggerated attention, then shifted his hazel eyes over to Dorian and gave a shit-eating grin, holding a thumbs up.  Dorian rolled his eyes and took a seat.  The dwarf seated next to the bearded man gave a small wave to Dorian before shifting back to his original position.  

Solas soon found himself basking in the beautiful music the orchestra was crafting.  It had been too long since he had been to a concert such as this.  His lips even quirked upward.  

The bearded man had fallen asleep not even halfway through, and the short-haired woman with a strong jaw looked bored out of her mind.  But everybody perked up when the orchestra finished their last piece and received applause.  What had been the point of this, again?  Solas couldn't see Alaran anywhere on stage.  

The dwarf roughly elbowed his friend, who jerked awake and automatically began clapping, blinking his eyes to awake himself.  A sort of tense excitement filled the stage box, and the dwarf leaned forward in his seat expectantly.  Solas watched as his eyes lit up at whatever had appeared on stage.  He followed the gaze.

Alaran confidently walked out with a violin and its bow in each hand.  She took the position of center stage and fluidly moved into the playing position.  A hush filled after the applause and loud murmuring.  The audience was now intrigued as much as Solas was, waiting and wondering as to what she could actually do.

In a  _snap_ of a movement Alaran began to play, and Solas' mouth slightly opened in astonishment before closing.  Everything that sprang forth from her instrument, from  _her,_ resonated with Solas.  It was a piece filled with forgiveness and hope, yet also with remorse and sadness far beyond what most could comprehend.  How old was she, again?  She couldn't have been over twenty-three.  But the music she had most likely composed all herself rang with age so sweetly sorrowful Solas wondered if that wasn't the case.  If it was, though, he was most likely looking upon the next star in the musical world.  

He glanced at the others in the stage box.  All of them had varying expressions of awe and pride, especially the dwarf's.  The bearded man took out his smart phone to take pictures, despite the signs on all the entrances explicitly stating that all phones were to be shut off, and his head bobbed to the beat as if it were a rock concert.  Solas softly snorted.  He was most likely Alaran's boyfriend, with how much enthusiasm he was showing.  But for being her significant other, he certainly hadn't dressed like anybody should when coming to a symphony concert.  The man hadn't even bothered to wear a  _tie._ Typical.  

_Stop.  You sound jealous._

And Solas most certainly was _not_ that.

Alaran was finished far too soon.  Solas quickly rose out of his chair to stand as he applauded, and a moment of panic gripped him.  He was a stranger in a midst of Alaran's friends, and if he stood before they, then that could have been taken in any which direction.  But they stood simultaneously with him.  The dwarf was most likely clapping the loudest in the whole auditorium, which now stood as well.  He had a broad smile stretched across his face as Alaran bowed and walked off stage, that ever-so-slight smirk playing on her lips.  She knew she had done more than well.

The dwarf and the bearded man dashed out of the stage box, and the others followed suit at a more leisurely pace.  The dark-skinned woman who wore a borderline scandalous dress had a bouquet of flowers in her arm as she exited.  Soon it was just Dorian and him.  

"Shall we?" Dorian asked, gesturing towards the door.  

"Are you taking me back to my car?" Solas questioned in turn.  That got a laugh from the other.

"And not tell Alaran she did a fantastic job?  I knew you tended to be rude, Solas, but I didn't think you were  _tactless."_

With a sigh, he followed Dorian out and to the backstage, then down a crowded hall filled with backstage techies and orchestra players until they reached a room that read _A._ _Lavellan_ on the door.  Dorian pulled it open without warning.  Solas was hit with the sounds of laughter and raised voices, one of which definitely Alaran's.  She was standing there, wearing a bright grin and cradling the bouquet of roses in her arms.  Her hair was slightly frayed and her chest fluttered with lingering adrenaline, but other than that she was exactly the same.  Her violet eyes danced with welcome when she saw Dorian, but when they met Solas' the dance became a  _crack._

Then they narrowed.

Yes.  He did regret coming.

-

Hawke was the one to save the day.  He swooped in and shook Solas' hand rigorously.  "Well hello!  I don't believe we've met.  My name is Garrett Hawke.  Are you Dorian's boyfriend?"  Before Solas could answer the Champion craned his neck over the small crowd.  "Dorian!" he shouted.  "I didn't know elves were in your mixing pool!"

"They're not!" Dorian shouted back, brushing past Vivienne and stopping next to Hawke.  "Well,  _he's_ not, anyways."

Hawke  _aaaahhhed_ and clasped Solas' shoulder casually.  "Sorry about that.  You never know who Dorian Pavus has lined up, these days.  I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name.  What is it?"

"Solas.  My name is Solas."

I could see Hawke tense up.  He whirled around to me, his eyes wide and his mouth in an even wider grin.  "Al!   _This_ is him?"

"That's who?" Varric butt in.

 _"My_ associate and friend," Dorian said, knowing that I would say something not-so-nice about Solas if I was given the chance to talk.  "Everyone, I would like you to meet Solas.  He's  _not_ my boyfriend."

"A pleasure to meet you, Solas.  Any friend of Dorian's is a friend of ours," Varric smiled, being the easy-going dwarf he was.  He shook hands with Solas, who was beginning to relax a bit.  "Are you two coming to the after-party?"

I rolled my eyes.  Of course there was an after-party.  Varric Tethras wouldn't be Varric Tethras if there wasn't an  _after-party._

"Hmm," Dorian pondered, "will there be good food?"

"Do boxes of pizza and buffalo wings sound like good food to you?"

"Not normally, no, but tonight it does."  Dorian waved a hand.  "Yes, alright, we'll be there."

Solas lost his relaxed state.  He looked at Dorian, the single question of  _"We?"_ plastered on his face.  I found that I was giving the Tevinter a similar look, so I composed my face before anybody could ask me what was wrong.   _  
_

Hawke chuckled and put an arm over my shoulder as the others introduced themselves to Solas.  "Don't worry," he said in my ear, "I think he'll be more uncomfortable than you are if he does join.  There's still hope for fun, yet."

My stomach grumbled.  I hadn't eaten all day because of my nerves, and now that everything was over I could finally go home and pig out as I relaxed with friends.  And Solas.  I imagined he would most likely be there.  Dorian didn't let anybody out of his grasp until he was satisfied.  "Let's get out of here," I stated with a hint of happy weariness.

"Right behind you."

Apparently, the night was just getting started.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I seriously have to stop writing these so late into the night. It's not good for the eyesight, I tell you.
> 
> Lawlz, what am I saying? My eyesight is already bad. Again, if there are any grammatical errors, I apologize. I'll do better in the future, I promise. And I'm sorry this chapter is a bit short. Again with the whole late night thing. I just can't stop myself. 
> 
> You know what I can't stop, nor would I? You all staying lovely.


	4. Partyers and Creepers Alike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens at the after-party.

I had reluctantly wiped off Dorian's lipstick and most of his makeup he applied on my face, then changed out of the dress I performed in and into black leggings and a t-shirt with a zombie unicorn that had a sword as its horn.  It creeped Varric and Cassandra out, which was partially why I wore it.  I twisted my hair back into a low bun and secured it with a clip.  Except for Dorian and Solas, on their way over everybody had switched out of their fancy attire and into something more comfortable as well.  It was already getting late, but we ignored the time and instead started up some music and gathered around the living room.  

"Cassie!  Dorian!  Get in the game!" I said, tossing them both Wii remotes.  "We're about to destroy our friendships via Mario Kart!"  I horked down a giant piece of pizza before I sat on a giant bean bag we had pulled out from the corner for parties like this.  

"I don't play," Cassandra said dryly, looking down at the remote as if it were a slab of rotten meat.  I ignored the completely untrue statement.

"Darling, Solas wishes to play as well," Dorian called as he strapped the wrist band over his hand.  I raised an eyebrow at the elf, who looked like he absolutely did  _not_ want to play.

I smirked and rolled off the bean bag, crawling on all fours to grab an extra remote.  "My dear, I can see your underwear straight through those thin leggings of yours," Vivienne commented.  She had a glass of champagne in her hand and was sipping idly on it, compared to the rest of us lowlifes who drank beer and Mountain Dew.  

My butt waggled in the air in response and I giggled.  When I turned back around to toss Solas the bright pink controller, I took pleasure to see that his ears were pink.  "You in?" I asked, holding up the device in my hand.  

Solas weighed the situation.  In the car ride over he had left his suit jacket and his tie inside, and now had his shirt unbuttoned a few notches.  He tilted his head slightly to the left, eyes gleaming.  "Only if I can play as Luigi."

The apartment  _oooohed_ in mocking wonder.  A surprise laugh bubbled up from my chest and I tossed him the controller.  He caught it deftly.  "If you had said Yoshi, then we would have had a problem," I smirked as I took up my spot on the beanbag.  

"Hey, I want to play," Varric said, squeezing himself between Hawke and Cassandra.  She looked down at him and curled her lip, but didn't move away.  I held back a giddy grin.  I shipped those two so hard.  

"Alright alright alright," I drawled after we had gotten all of our characters and their rides.  "Let's get this party started."

"Ooh!  Ooh!  Pick Sky Garden!" Josephine tittered.  Hawke blew a raspberry.

"We go big or we go home!" he said darkly.  "Do Dry Dry Ruins."

I snorted and passed it.  "No."

"DK Mountain!  DK Mountain, Al!" Varric shouted.  

 _"Definitely_ not," I grumbled.  "That's like the only track you're good at."

"Please don't be going where I think you're going," Dorian moaned.  My smirk grew as I moved through all the courses without pause.  "I  _knew_ we should have let Josie be in charge of choosing the tracks."

There were unanimous groans as I pressed on Rainbow Road.  I leaned forward and got in the zone as the screen blinked  _3...2...1._

Cassandra immediately spun out and I rammed into Dorian's Mario, sending him flying off the edge and into outer space.  Josephine was slowly moving along, her driving jerky and paused so she wouldn't fall off.   _"It's the ultimate showdown!"_ I sang as I passed Varric, who tried to hit me with a turtle shell.

 _"Of ultimate destiny!"_ Hawke finished in his musician's voice that so many ladies fell for.

"For the love of the Maker,  _please_ don't sing that song," Cassandra huffed.  Her face glowered in concentration as she tried to steer through the course.  

 _"Good guys, bad guys and explosions,"_ I continued, dropping bananas all along the course, which made Varric swear as he spun out on one.  

_"As far as the eye can see."_

I nearly ran myself off the road when Solas sang the next verse.  I glanced back at him and saw that, while the tips of his ears had gone red, he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.  Hawke laughed loudly.  

"See, Al, he's not as bad as you made him out to be!"  

Maybe I really hadn't.  I mean, he  _did_ tell me that my performance was remarkable, albeit it being a little forced.  But he hadn't--

A spiny shell with wings hit me and careened me into space.  Solas' Luigi zoomed past, putting him into the lead.

I made an angry noise as Solas chuckled.  By the time I got put back on even Cassandra had passed me.  Josephine didn't seem to mind that she was still in last place.

"You've angered the beast, Chuckles," Varric said.  "Now we're  _all_ going to face her wrath."

"Damn right," I snarled, but couldn't keep my grin locked away.  I hit one of the boxes and got a bullet.  "Freak yeah!" I crowed.  I knocked Cassandra and Dorian out of the way, then pushed Varric off the edge.  My bullet wore out, but it put me right behind Hawke's Baby Peach.  I blocked him from getting a speed burst and managed to get ahead.  "I'm coming for you,  _da'len._ " _  
_

"Oh?  Does this mean I am to call you  _hahren?"_ Solas gibed back.  

"Hell yes it does, 'cause you about to get  _schooled,_ " I grinned, then launched a banana peel at him.  It caught under his treads and he spun out.  I screeched in triumph.  I the finish line was in sight and I was going to win.

The music for somebody getting a star began playing, and before I could make it Josephine rushed by, placing first and leaving the rest of us in her dust.  

The living room sat there in stunned silence as Josephine cheered delightfully.  Hawke threw down his remote and stood up.  "I think I need a beer after that."

"That makes two of us," Varric grumbled, getting up as well.  

"That was  _JoseFINE,"_ I said to the Antivan without thinking about it.

The room stilled.  Confusion swept through my mind and the minds of the others.  There was something inside me that...that...

I burped.  Dorian wrinkled his nose.  "I swear, you have some sort of chasm in you where things like that come from."

"Pizza break!" I declared, hopping up from the bean bag and stretching, then tossing the remote to Vivienne for her to take my place.  I hunkered down over the meatlovers box.  Nobody had touched it except for me, which meant that I had eaten half of it already.  And I wouldn't be stopping anytime soon.  

The volume of the apartment steadily grew louder as betrayal sunk deeper into our hearts with each banana peel, turtle shell, and lightning strike.  The game came to a stop when Cassandra hurled the controller against the wall after a particularly heavy loss.  

"Cass," I groaned loudly, gazing at the broken remains.  "That's the third one in the past two months!"

She had enough decency to look remorseful.

"Looks like it's time for an innocent game of Wicked Grace!" Varric stated, clapping his hands together and moving to stand.  I pointed a finger at him.

"Varric, no."

"Varric, yes."

In no time we had pushed the coffee table out of the way and gathered in a misshaped circle around the floor.  Hawke was already drunk, but it wasn't as if he had money to bet on, anyways.  "Ya know, Al, I like Solas," he said after he emptied his bottle.  "He's not as much of an ass as you made him out to be."

"You spoke of me?" Solas asked as he moved his cards around.  I sneered at the smirk on his face, but it held no malice. 

"Well, a lowly retail clerk has to vent to somebody about the customers she comes across," I said absently.  I was trying to see if I could cheat.  "Especially when said customer admonishes my culture."

"What culture?" Dorian scoffed.  "You're as much of a shem as the rest of us."

"Shh.  Nobody needs to know."

 _"Everybody_ knows," Cassandra said as she scowled at her cards.  

I stuck my tongue out at her.  

"A word of caution, Chuckles," Varric said.  "Watch out for Al.  She likes to cheat."

"Um, excuse me, but who was the one who  _taught_ me to cheat?"

"Yeah, I taught you to cheat, not to cheat well enough to beat  _me."_

"I think I can handle myself, Master Tethras," Solas said.  His eyes glinted cleverly.  Ugh.  Did he  _have_ to be intelligent as well?

Varric shrugged.  "Suit yourself."

About halfway through the game I saw something flash brightly out of the corner of my eye.   **There was the flash the flash and then the white it was deafening how could a color be deafening I couldn't hear my own soul--**

The cards slipped out of my grasp and I drew in a ragged, choking breath, which soon turned into frantic cries.  "Al, Al, hey, Al, look at me," Varric said firmly but gently, taking my hands in his.  I forced my head to turn, anchoring myself to his sienna eyes and his thick hands and his easy smile.  "Where are you?"  I saw another flash out of the corner of my eye and I jumped.  Varric followed my gaze and bit back his anger.  "Somebody close the damn curtains.  The assholes across in the apartment across the street have strobe lights."  Cassandra quickly moved and drew them shut.

I laughed, but it came out as more of a hysterical giggle.  Strobe lights.  Strobe lights sent me into an episode.  How nice.  "Where are you, Al?" Varric asked again.  It took a few moments to find my voice.  

"Home.  I'm with you and Dorian and Hawke and Viv and Cass and Josie and Solas.  We were eating pop and drinking pizza--I mean, we were drinking pop and eating pizza.  Well, I was drinking pop, anyways.  The rest of you drank beer and Vivienne's on her second glass of champagne."

"What does the floor feel like?"

"My butt kind of hurts from sitting on it and I told you to get a different rug because that spot where Hawke puked just won't entirely come out."

Varric's smile grew.  "Yeah, yeah.  What color do you think we should get?"

"I really liked that one we saw at Dillard's.  You know, the dark blue one with those gray swirls?"

"Oh, yeah, I know that one.  You made me stare at it for ten minutes.  How could I forget?"

I laughed again, but this one was calmer.  I slipped a hand out of Varric's and tucked a wisp of hair behind my pointed ears.  I regretted it, because I became aware that I was shaking uncontrollably.  Varric saw as well, so he continued with his questioning.  They were simple questions, but they grounded me.  

"Why don't we get you to bed?" Varric eventually said.  I didn't want to go to bed, not really, but I doubted I could resume acting normally after the scene I made, nor could the others.  

"I'm sorry, guys," I apologized.  "I kind of ruined all the fun."

"Psh, nonsense," Dorian said.  "I was about to lose all my money, anyways."

"My dear, you've ruined nothing," Vivienne said sincerely.  Her voice always sounded nice whenever it wasn't condescending or haughty.  

"I will pay for the controller that I broke," Cassandra promised.  I waved her off. 

"No, Cass, it's fine.  If anything, just take Hawke home."

"Yes, Cass, take me home," Hawke mumbled as he nuzzled his head on her shoulder with a lazy smile.  She made a disgusted noise and shoved him off.  We all stood up and I gave hugs to everybody except for Solas.  Oh, gosh, he saw me have a come apart.  Fantastic.  

"I...had a pleasant evening," Solas said, tilting his head down at me.  "It was not what I expected."

"No, I'm sure it wasn't," I said with a weak smirk.  "I'm sorry you had to see...all that."

A bemused expression passed his face and his russet-colored eyebrows furrowed.  "I did not take you to be one who apologized for things not worth apologizing for."  The corner of his lip twitched upward.  "In fact, I had taken you as a person who hardly apologized for anything."

"I think you thought a lot about me that wasn't necessarily true," I said.  Solas looked down at his feet, a short, soft burst of laughter escaping him.  I raised an amused brow.  "So he  _can_ smile!"

"Yes, well, take a picture of it," Dorian interceded.  "It's more elusive than that golden halla you Dalish worship."

"You know, it's a good thing I'm not really Dalish-like, otherwise I'd punch you for your political incorrectness," I said, crossing my arms and making a face.  Dorian barked a laugh.

"Just not anywhere on the face, please.  It's what makes all the money."

I rolled my eyes.  

Hawke blindsided me with a hug, picking me off the ground and planting a drunken kiss on my cheek.  "Al, I just love you  _so much,"_ he cooed as he scraped his beard against my face.  "Come by the studio tomorrow, okay?  And bring Varric with you."

"I got work," Varric called.  "And I don't think the word 'studio' is an apt description for the place you're talking about."  Hawke set me down.

"I'm your best friend!  Varric, I just miss you so much.  I miss you like the sun misses the moon--"

"That makes no sense--"

Hawke ignored him and instead clutched his heart in one hand while throwing the other in the air.  "I miss you like a slice of bread misses the another slice of bread."

"What?"

"I miss you--"

Cassandra grabbed him roughly by the arm.  "Alright, Champion, let's get you home."  She then hauled Hawke out.

Everybody soon followed suit.  When it was just Varric and me once more, he turned to me.  I hated when he looked at me like that, all full of _love_ and  _concern._ It wasn't fair.  "Al, we can get you more sessions."

I was already shaking my head.  "No.  No, I'm fine."

"The thing is, I don't think you are--"

 _"Varric,"_ I cut off.  I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose.  "Things like that hardly ever happen, anymore, and one day I'll never have to worry about going through it again.  But you just have to trust me when I say that I really am fine."  

We stared each other down for a few moments before Varric submitted.  He rubbed the back of his neck and said, "Okay, okay, you win.  However, it still doesn't mean that I won't be worried about you."

I gave a small smile and hugged the dwarf.  "I know.  And I doubt there'll ever come a day when you'll stop."

"Keep it that way."

-

Dorian had barely slammed the car door when he said, "Alright, spew your vomit of questions on me now before you implode."

Though his choice of words puzzled Solas, the meaning was still the same.  "What happened back there?" he immediately asked as he warmed his hands up with magic.  Dorian put his key in the ignition and started up the car, and they both hissed as they were blasted with frigid air from the vent.  

 _"Fasta vass,_ sometimes I wonder why I came to this cold place," Dorian grumbled as they pulled out onto the road.  "Oh, right!  Because my parents disowned me."  He sighed and got back on topic.  "Alaran was in the explosion at the Conclave last year for part of her project in her world politics class."

Solas' blood ran cold.  

The mage continued.  "By the way, if you think you're bad at going on and on about politics, talk to Alaran sometime.  She can be downright dreadful.  Anyways, I don't believe I need to explain myself much further.  The explosion happened, a lot of people died, she walked away with a gouged palm and a wounded mind. What makes it worse, though, is that she has a photographic memory.  So while others would have hazy memories about it all, Alaran can recall in exact detail of what she saw."  Dorian's mouth set into a grim line.  "I advise against asking her.  Maker, I wasn't even  _there_ and yet I'm haunted by what she described to me."  Dorian slowed to a stop at a red light.  The city was full of people bundled up in coats, hats, and scarves.  Many were couples, holding hands and laughing and kissing.  

He hated how his gut twisted in envy at the sight.  

"Do episodes like that happen to her often?"  He pulled out his phone to check if he had any messages.  Perhaps somebody had called or messaged him when he was--

Nothing.

"No.  I've seen it only happen once before, and that was at one of Hawke's concerts.  I'm not sure what set her off that time.  All I remember is looking over to her and seeing absolute horror in those giant eyes."  In a lower, even more somber voice, Dorian added, "And then she screamed something one could only produce if they were in a nightmare in the Fade."  He brushed the memory away with a hand.  "Varric and Cassandra shepherded her outside before I could blink.  She told me she occasionally had them, but it still scared the piss out of me."

It had frightened Solas too, when he saw Alaran's face go blank and her eyes become glassy.  At first he simply thought she was thinking about something else, but his heart spurred into a frenzy when the cards slipped out of her hands--she would have won the round, Solas discovered--and she made a noise along the lines of being unable to breathe.  Then they shifted into terrified, desperate cries.  The game came to an abrupt halt, but Varric moved so quickly to her side Solas hardly realized he had done so in the first place.  What the relationship between the two was, he didn't know.  He couldn't have been her father.  He was too young and she was too old, and Solas seriously doubted that Alaran was part dwarf.  But whatever it was, it was clear they loved each other.  Varric talked to Alaran calmly and soothingly, bringing her back to reality with questions and jokes.  Even Hawke, who was quite drunk, sobered up long enough to see that she was taken care of.  The relationship between  _those_ two was even more difficult to discern.  

"But, with all that aside, did you enjoy yourself?" Dorian questioned lightly.

"I did," Solas responded just as lightly, but there was a definite layer of wariness mixed in.  He feared what the mage would say next.

"Good!  Because from what I saw tonight, I believe you've made yourself a part of Alaran's Inner Circle."

Solas' mouth tugged into a frown.   _"'Inner Circle?'"_

"Yes.  Don't think about it too hard.  No, I doubt she likes you all that much, still, but for some reason everybody else does--Oh don't give me that look.  I'm as surprised as you are!  But it  _does_ prove that I'm a terrific friend."  

The statement made Solas snort.  "I feel as if I should be suspicious about suddenly becoming part of this Inner Circle.  I hardly know anyone, let alone Alaran."

"Ah, but you know  _me!_ And what better person is there to know?"

The elf glanced at Dorian sidelong.  "We weren't exactly meant to be friends when we first met."  They most definitely weren't.  The original intent was to merely be contacts for the network they had woven themselves into, but somehow, in some way, that all changed.  

"Solas, it almost hurts me to think that you don't believe it was divine intervention that we became friends.  It's times like these I'm glad I locked my heart away in a steel vault."

They reached his car and bid each other farewell.  From there on it was a silent drive home back to his small townhouse.  Solas looked up at the overcast night sky before he walked in.  He wouldn't be surprised if it snowed, tomorrow.

Snow.

It was the same color as Alaran's hair.

Solas scoffed at how ridiculous he was being.  She obviously held no affection for him, and from the way she and Hawke acted around each other almost proved that they had some kind of flame between the two of them.  The man was everything he wasn't.  Hawke was charming, while Solas was standoffish.  Hawke was boisterous, while Solas was quiet.  Hawke was kind, while Solas was rude.  And Hawke made Alaran grin, while Solas did nothing but make her eyes crack lightning at him.

Except...Alaran  _had_ smiled at him, even if it was with a raised eyebrow.  

Honestly, Solas had absolutely no idea why he was still caught up on the thought of the Dalish elf.  It was most likely due to the aura of mystery around her that he was drawn to, not her smirk or her nose that turned slightly upward at the tip or her swan-like neck.  That was all it was.  His curiosity would be sated soon enough, and then he'd be fine.  Yes.  

 _You are an astounding creep,_ Solas thought to himself as he looked up Alaran's Facebook profile.  He was now laying in bed, wearing nothing but the black briefs she herself had seen him in earlier in the day.  The brightness from his phone made him squint slightly, but after only a short search he found her.   _And exactly_ why  _are you doing this, again?_

Alaran must have changed her profile picture tonight, because she looked the same as when she performed.  Her dark lips were in a smirk and her head was tilted at an angle that exposed one side of her sharp, feminine jawline.  The filter she used brought out her violet eyes and the color of her lips.  There was a comment underneath the picture from one Sera...just Sera.  There was no last name.  

_U look fockin gorgeous!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

It was followed by an absurd amount of emojis.  Solas had no idea the curse word she had used could even be spelled like that.  

The entire time he looked up Alaran's photos, posts, and bio, he felt absurd.  Solas shouldn't know that she was twenty-two, her name-day was the sixth of Cassus, she was a classical music major, she went to the University of Ferelden, she enjoyed fall weather and anything nerdy, she played an assortment of instruments and not just the violin, and that she was in a relationship with caramel cone ice cream.  Many of her photos included said Inner Circle or scenery she thought was beautiful.  The tagged pictures with Alaran in primarily came from Dorian, Varric, and Hawke.  There were grainy videos of her playing the electric violin while Hawke and his apparent band performed at small venues.  But there was one video that caught her expertly strumming an electric guitar.  Out of everything, there were hardly any self-taken photos (the day Solas uttered the word "selfie" was the day he would fly off into the sunset on the back of a griffon).  The ones that she had posted, however, were incredibly photogenic and flawless.  

Solas refused to look her up on Instagram or Twitter.

There was one heart-stopping incident where Solas was scrolling down through Alaran's profile and accidentally pressed the  _like_ button on one of her pictures.  It was bad enough he liked any picture  _at all,_ but what made it worse was that the picture of Alaran and Josephine wearing fake mustaches that resembled Dorian's was from ten months ago.  In a panic he tapped the button again and again.   _Liked--Unliked--Liked--Unliked--Liked_ went the pattern until Solas forced himself to be calm and only pressed down once to change it back to  _Unliked._ He breathed a sigh of relief, and decided that he should save some of his dignity and exited out.

 _Creep you are, yes,_ Yoda's voice drifted into Solas' mind.  He slapped a hand over his eyes and groaned in solitary humiliation.

-

I lay on my side in the dark confines of my room with the blankets pulled over my head, swiping my thumb up to venture further into Solas' Facebook history.  His full name was Solas Fenharel, without the typical apostrophe.  How unfortunate to be a descendant of the Dread Wolf clan.  No wonder why he disliked the Dalish so much.  

There were few photos of him, but his profile picture was clear and crisp.  It was weird to think that anybody like Solas would even  _take_ a selfie, let alone as good a one as his.  And all of his posts were links to political articles that I...huh.  That I really liked.  

_Nope.  Abort.  Abort.  Abort._

But I didn't listen to myself.  I continued onward, stifling sudden laughter at his random, subtly sassy posts about certain things.  I was surprised how big of a  _nerd_ he was, too.  I mean, the guy's background profile picture was of Hobbiton.  Seriously.   _Hobbiton._ I wondered what his Twitter account would have...

_No.  Don't even._

He clearly supported mage and elven equal rights, and had attended several rallies and was the head of many petitions, alongside one Dorian Pavus.  It made more sense why they were doing whatever it was they were doing.  Curiosity sparked in my mind.  I wanted to know what it was they were up to, now.  I wanted to know quite badly.  

I eventually grumbled and shoved my phone under my pillow.  I was hardcore creeping the guy I had already dubbed my rival.  Probably shouldn't go down that path.  

Yet I couldn't stop myself as my hand snaked back out from under the blankets and I turned my phone back on to continue the adventure.

-

Solas was half asleep when his phone  _pinged._ Sleepily, he rolled over and squinted at the blaring screen as he turned it on.

_You have 1 new Facebook notification_

He pressed on the message and let it take him to his Facebook page.  All drowsiness vanished and his eyes widened when he saw what the notification was.

_Alaran Lavellan liked your post from 11 Ferventis._

Solas hastily tapped on it.  There was no way he would even remember what it was he had posted, and prayed that it wasn't something too embarrassing.

It was an article he had shared about the dynamic between the Templars and the Chantry, and how the repercussions of a religious organization controlling a branch of a militaristic force would soon prove to be disastrous.  

Oh.

Well.

He put his phone back on his nightstand and resumed his original position.  But sleep didn't come for a long while after.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE HAVE ALL BEEN CREEPERS. DO NOT DENY THIS.
> 
> Ahem. Sorry. I just figured that...oh, never mind.


	5. She's a Force, Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hallah turns up, the Champions of Kirkwall get in a bind, and Inquisitor Alaran starts to show.

Naked.

Why was I always naked?

I pushed myself up off the ground with exaggerated struggling noises.  There were gasps from people starting to stare.   _Yeah, drink all thissss in,_ I thought to myself.  I put a hand on my bare hip and looked around, biting my lip in thought.  Where had I ended up?  What had little Alaran constructed in that big brain of hers?  Better yet, what did the  _Orb_ construct?

The police car that rolled up said  _HAVEN POLICE DEPT._ on the side. I grinned and jogged up to it, knocking on the tinted window.  I could feel that everybody in this city--in this  _world,_ if that's what it could be called--was made of...nothing.  Just imagination, the barest wisp of a thought.  It still amazed me, though, that everything could be in such detail, even when Alaran wasn't nearby to give it life.  She had to be here somewhere, though.  Everything from the dirty snow on the ground that tried to make my feet cold had substance.  

Whoever was in the car was real, though.  Their thoughts, their feelings...they were all real.  It had to be some of the Inner Circle.

Instead of being polite and rolling down the window, the entire door opened and a hulking Ferelden man stepped out, looking all sorts of suave and enticing in his police officer's uniform.  I met him eye-to-eye.  "Cully!" I exclaimed, then threw my arms around him.  Cullen made a noise and attempted to disengage me, but before he could I was merciful and let go. _  
_

His partner also stepped out.  I gave a jovial wave.  "Hey, Blackwall!  Wait, or is it Rainier, now?  Nope, nope, still Blackwall."  I scratched the side of my head.  "Okay, I can't really  _See_ clearly, right now, so I'm just going to ask.  Do either of you know one Alaran Lavellan?"

"Saw her at the concert, last night--" Blackwall immediately began, then cleared his throat and remained silent.  I slapped my hands to my cheeks.

"Ah!  She's doing her own performances?  That's amazing!"

"Madam, you do realize that you're not wearing any clothes," Cullen said strictly.  I looked down at my nude body.  

"Oh.  Yeah.  Right.  Sometimes I forget to put clothes on.  There's already so much going in my head, and from the way I was just dropped off like this, it wasn't the first thing on my mind to be decent."  I tossed my head to the side.  "Not that nobody doesn't like the view.  Oh!  But Alaran!  Do you guys know her?"

This was going south.  Fast.  Dammit.  Um um um um um um

"Blackwall!  Hey, Blackwall!  I need you to tell me where exactly Alaran played at.  Pretty  _please!_ You won't regret it, I promise!"  I clasped my hands in front of me and stepped towards him.  He, in turn, took a step back.  

Cullen spoke into his transmitter.  "This is Officer Rutherford, I need a female officer sent in to help us detain..."

I waved my hands in the air.  "No!  No!  It's not like that!  Well, it  _is,_ but I just need to know where Al is at!"

For a moment I felt something tingle against their minds, suggesting, tempting them to remember where they knew that nickname from.  But the subconscious was a fickle thing, and before they could even fully begin to be aware of what was nestled in their minds they let it slip back into shadow.

I pressed the palms of my hands to my temples and groaned.  "Oh you turd blossoms why can't you see why can't you just feel why are you so  _mortal?"_

Blackwall had procured a dark blanket for me to wrap myself in.  I grinned wickedly and crouched, startling the two officers.  "Ma'am, we mean you no harm," Blackwall said gently.  "We just want to get you covered up.  It's awfully cold out here, isn't it?"

"Dunno.  I'm not one to particularly notice the temperature.  Got a lot of things running around in my head."  My foot shifted backwards and my grin broadened.  "Speaking of running... _let's play a game of tag!"_ I swatted Cullen's arm before he could reel back.  "You're it!"

With a high-pitched squeal I took off into the street, racing through pedestrians.  Cullen and Blackwall were in hot pursuit.  I saw Sera a short distance off, much to my amazement.  "Hey, Sera!" I called.  The elf snapped her head up from the phone she was scrolling on, looking around wildly.  She wouldn't know it was me who called her name, but she did  _see_ me headed straight her way.  And, like I figured she'd do, Sera held up her phone and snapped a picture of me.  I winked and pointed a finger-gun at her while grinning charmingly.  

Not a moment after doing that I solidly collided with something.  I was hardly phased, but the other person was sent flying off their feet.  I gasped when I saw who it was.  "Varric!  Varric, I am  _so_ glad to see you!  Seriously, you had no idea how hard I thought this might be--"

I was then promptly electrocuted with a taser.  

"P-p-police br-brutality," I stammered, hating the fact that I had to  _let_ myself feel the effects of the taser so as not to raise alarm.  

I was hauled to my feet and a blanket was tossed over me as my hands were cuffed.   _Fools, do you not know who I am?_ I wanted to say in a deep voice.  But I didn't.  Instead I went limp-noodle, and would have collapsed back onto the ground had it not been for Cullen.  "Maker, don't be like this, please," he grumbled.

"I'm not the Maker."  I closed my eyes and hummed.  "But I  _could_ make a lot of things.  Like my seCOND ATTEMPT AT ESCAPE!"

I burst away and let the blanket fall free, laughing madly with my hands chained together in front of me.  I ran in the middle of the street, nimbly dodging passing cars.  Cullen and Blackwall were still after me, unfortunately.  I didn't know  _why,_ exactly.  With my body, it wasn't considered public indecency.  It was considered community service.  Did anybody  _really_ regret seeing a naked Hallah Lynne?

The answer is no.

As I ran I tugged on the fabric that this reality was composed of.  It was definitely a combination of the Orb and Alaran's mana.  I considered telling her that she was a mage after she got pricked by an arrow to her head, but she had too much fun with her greatsword, and it would have only put more stress on her if she unlocked it and had to learn to control all of its properties.  So I let her continue to keep it tucked away until it was really needed.  

The whole thing was blurry.  I didn't exactly know what was going to happen, but I had a pretty good idea.  And after all my years of practice, I could typically safely assume what would come to pass.

But this... _this_ surprised me.  And people don't do that to me often, especially since I'm omnipotent.

Once I got tired of being chased by Haven's finest I ducked into a cold, shadowy alley and opened a tear and leaped through.  The motion didn't  _feel_ like actual reality.  It was like yanking a finger through pudding instead of water.  Speaking of something sweet and stuff I like to savor...

I found myself in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Haven.  I knew that it was away from the central city because of how faded and dull everything felt.  My wrists pulled apart and the handcuffs easily broke.  With the twitch of a finger I had a scratchy, oversized poncho on and denim jeans with black boots.  My phone--yes, I did have a phone--appeared in my hands and I called up Wade.

"Hey, babe," I said, plopping down on the wooden floor.

_"Babe?!  What the hell?  We were going to go T.P. the helicarrier!  I'm sitting in the apartment with the entire stock of Costco toilet paper back here!"_

I winced.  I had  _really_ wanted to do that.  "Yeah...things with Al got a little messed up, so now I'm stuck in a combination of her mind and the intelligence of Solas' Orb.  It's pretty neat, actually, if you don't consider the destruction it'll cause when time runs out and she'll have to battle for possession of her existence, as well as the existence of all her friends who got stuck in here.  And she's dragging more minds in by the day, which only ups the danger."

_"And what if she loses?  Will...will you be lost, too?"_

My heart fluttered.  "Aww.  Wade.  It's so hot when you're concerned about me."  I laid out on my back and tucked a hand behind my head, then kicked my legs lazily up in the air.  "But I should be fine.  Just being unable to See makes things sucky, that's all.  If things do go bad, I'll probably be the only one to make it out alive.  Then I'll have to clean up the giant tear in the Universe it makes."

_"So how long will you be?"  'Cause I **really** wanna see the look on Coulson's face when he sees what we've done to Lola."_

I laughed.  "Me too."  Then I pushed my lips to the side in thought.  "Um, I should be back in a couple of hours.  It'll take me a while to find Alaran, and even then I can only approach her as who I really am when she's ready and the time is right.  But, Wade, you don't have to wait up for me if you don't want to."

_"Are you kidding?  Babe, you're the sass to my frass, the pickles to my juice.  I'm not going to be one of those assholes who don't want to do fun things with their wives.  Just hurry home, 'cause my fingers are missing boobs to squeeze.  Your boobs, specifically."_

"They  _are_ pretty soft, aren't they?" I asked, patting them for good measure.

_"Mmm.  The softest.  Like little kittens.  Little boob kittens."_

A different kind of smile played on my lips.  "Is that all you'd do?  Just squeeze them?" _  
_

Wade growled seductively.   _"Oh, no.  I'd--"_

"Hold on, babe.  I gotta get rid of the readers.  Sometimes they forget that this is AL'S STORY, and not mine!  Get out of here, weirdies!  You're not going to have the privilege of reading my husband and I having steamy phone sex."

_"Oh so we're really going to have phone sex?  Awesome!  And hey, you creeps!  Stop stalking my wife!"_

_-_

"Hey, Al, I need to take this phone call," Varric said to me, waving his phone in the air as proof.  "Grab me a cruller!"  He called over his shoulder as he weaved his way through the crowded bakery.

I sighed and shook my head.  "Why don't you just grab yourself a cruller," I muttered darkly to myself.  "Oh, right!  'Cause that would mean you'd have to get the Stepping Stool!"

"Hope you're not bashing on us dwarves," Lace smirked as she leaned over the counter.  I tipped my head back and groaned a laugh.  I had been the next in line and I hadn't even noticed.

"Not dwarves.  Just Varric.  The only one who deserves bashing on," I smirked.  "But he would like a cruller."

"Aw, it hurts me that he would think I'd forget his favorite type of pastry," Lace said as she deftly began piling up all the doughnuts we typically got.  

"Have I ever told you that I love you, Harding?" I asked as I pulled my debit card from my wallet.  "Because I really do.  I really,  _really_ do.  And not just for your doughnuts, either!  I mean, you have this really cute and merciless look about you.  The freckles and the smile draw me in, but it's the scar and those piercing eyes that make me keep coming back."

"Just saying what I tell her every day," said a rumbling voice.  I waved as Iron Bull pushed through the back doors with a fresh tray of cannolis.  Flour dusted his black shirt and he had to side step so he wouldn't catch his horns through the entrance.  

I sighed in wanting as Lace gave me back my card.  "I swear, I could live in here forever.  Oh!  Hey!  Could you make a signature doughnut based off of me?"  I batted my eyelashes and tucked my chin in as I grinned.

"We already got one," Bull said, then pointed over to their white powdered doughnuts.  I turtle-frowned, then sniffed dramatically and took the box of doughnuts.  

"If you don't mind me, I'll just be in the car eating my feelings," I said in a hurt voice.  Iron Bull and Lace only laughed.  I began to turn, then remembered part of the reason why we were there.  "Oh!  I almost forgot!"  I fished out the flyer from my purse.  "Hawke's band is playing downtown at the Herald's Rest next Saturday.  We'd love for you guys to come."

"Ooh, Hawke," Lace purred as she took the lime green paper with  _Champions of Kirkwall!  Live!_ plastered all over it. 

It was Iron Bull's turn to frown.  "You still got a crush on that scruffy mage, kadan?"

 _"Psh._ No.  Of course not.  I--I--no," Lace sputtered with a nervous laugh.  I raised an eyebrow, then glanced up at Iron Bull, who now looked more amused than anything.  

"Okaaay.  Well, have fun, you two."

I stopped holding up the line and pushed past all sorts of bundled up people coming in from the cold.  I scrunched my face up in confusion when I saw Varric getting helped up by Sera, of all people.

She saw me open the door and walk out.  "Hey, Ally!  Oh, you're  _never_ gonna believe what just happened!  Dwarfy here got plowed over by some giant naked lady, who got tased by some fockin police officers and then got up and ran off again!"

"Huh?"

"Unfortunately, what she says is true," Varric said as he dusted himself off and adjusted the red scarf he was wearing.  He then patted himself down.  "Dammit, where's my..."

Our eyes all looked down at the shattered remains of Varric's phone a few feet away.  "Ooh," I grimaced.  "That's rough, Varric."

"Wait--you know 'im?" Sera asked me.  I smirked at her, then at Varric.

"Yeah.  He's my  _lovah."_

That got the reaction I wanted.  Varric shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as Sera outwardly gagged.  I threw my head back and laughed.  "I'm kidding!  Varric is--well,  _was,_ now at I'm an adult--my legal guardian.  But we still live together."

Sera relaxed.  "Oh, that's a fockin relief."

"Al, you didn't tell me you had any friends your age," Varric said with an easy smile, but I knew he meant to instigate things.  

I put my arms around Sera and made a kissy face.  "She's not my friend.  She's my  _lovah."_

I was roughly shoved off, which only made me snicker.  "Speaking of fockin which, when are ya gonna hook me up with some ladies?" Sera demanded.  

"She has to  _know_ people to do that," Varric pointed out.  "Sorry, Buttercup, but Al has about as much talent at matchmaking as the Avvar Great Bears do at winning."

"Hey!   _Shush!"_ I yelled at Varric.  "The Great Bears are gonna rock this season."

Sera snorted.  "Whatever.  My money's on the High Dragons."

Varric gestured proudly at her.  "See?  Why can't you just be a reasonable person, for once?"

I angrily opened the doughnut box, then plucked out Varric's cruller.  His eyes widened in horror.  "No, Al, please--"

In three bites I had devoured it.

-

"Why is Varric pouting and looking like he doesn't know what to do with himself?" Hawke asked me as I handed him a bottle of water.  

"Because some naked lady ran into him and broke his phone and I ate his crispy cruller in a fit of rage," I responded with a shrug.  

"Not one of the most normal things I've heard in the twenty-nine years after I evacuated the womb, but also not the worst."  Isabela was trying to cheer Varric up by showing him the latest tattoo she had gotten on her hip.  Varric was at least  _acting_ like he was interested.  But it was Isabela.  Hardly anybody only  _acted_ like they liked seeing her body.

Merrill came around the corner.  "Oh!  Hello, Alaran and Varric!  I had no idea either of you were here!"

"Merrill, what were you even doing?" Hawke asked.

"Oh, well, the neighbor across the street just had her dog pass away, so I went to go and deliver some casserole."

"You are evil," Anders said as he sprawled out on one of the beaten-down couches.  "I mean, how could you  _tantalize_ us with the smell of your food but not let us have any?"

"Yeah, Anders, she's  _really_ evil by taking that casserole to a grieving neighbor," I said sarcastically as I got up to give my fellow Dalish outcast a warm hug.  "Where's Fenris?--Ooh, Merrill, are you wearing a new perfume?"

"That's the whole reason why we're here," Hawke said, pulling up a bar stool from underneath the counter.  "Our dear drummer decided to leave on a six-month humanitarian trip to Tevinter to go and help the slaves.  And by help, I mean he's going to undercover and sneaking them out.  All very dangerous, all very heroic, all very Fenris, but most importantly:  we are now without a drummer, and our show is a week from today."

"Alaran--" Anders immediately began as he sat up.

"No," I cut off.  The band unanimously groaned.  "Guys, I can't even play the drums!  And you have me playing the electric violin for two of your pieces, anyways, so that wouldn't even work out."

"What are we going to do?" Merrill asked nervously.  "This will be our biggest show, yet."

"We say screw it and go without!" Isabela said, then procured a glass of scotch out of nowhere.  Literally.  Nowhere.  Unless they had been tucked in between her massive boobs, I had no idea where she had gotten it from.

"What about Aveline?" Varric asked.  Anders snorted.

"Oh, yes, I can imagine how well  _that_ conversation would go.   _'Hello, yes, Aveline, would you like to fly down from Kirkwall and play for one night for us in a bar and ignore your duties as the head detective?'"_

"To be fair," I pointed out, "it's not just a bar.  It's also a restaurant."  Anders made a face at me.  

"Nah, she'd definitely be out, with her family and all," Varric added.  "And she didn't even like playing drums.  Something about the bass and her just resonated."

"What about Sebastian?" I asked.

Hawke shook his head.  "Already tried.   _He's_ off ministering to the poor and needy in Nevarra.  What is with my band members being good people?  Huh?  Didn't I pick you for your shady behavior and questionable morals?  Except for you, Merrill."  She beamed at the compliment.  

We all sat there in silence for a few moments.  Anders made a bored, stressed noise.  

"Well," I eventually said, "I brought doughnuts, if you guys..."

They all headed to the box before I could even finish, chatting as if nothing was even wrong.  

"We'll figure something out," Isabela said through a mouthful of a chocolate covered bar.  "I wouldn't worry about it."

"But we should, though," Merrill said, nibbling on a round doughnut with pink frosting and sprinkles on top.  

"Oh, if only blood magic worked on everything," Anders sighed wistfully.  He then paused.  "You know, it's not even fun to say things like that, anymore, now that Fenris is gone."

"I miss him already," Merrill sighed.  "He always looked so cool under the black lights, with his...lyrium."

"Merrill he's only been gone a day," Isabela deadpanned.  

"Still."

-

_Is there anybody out there who knows how to play the drums on short-notice?  Like super short notice.  Tomorrow, specifically. And preferably has blurred lines when it comes to their morality? The **Champions of Kirkwall** are short one lyrium-infused brooding elf.  Lyrium not necessary._

_-Posted today at 4:57 PM._

Solas' eyebrow twitched at Alaran's post.  Three days ago she had been the one to send him a friend request.   _All by herself._ No poking and prodding from Dorian, no gun held to her head to force her to do so...nothing.  She had done it voluntarily. _  
_

For some reason, it made Solas smile.  

"And why are you looking at your phone like it said something funny?" Dorian asked as they sat in his workshop.  It was late; everybody had gone home except for the two of them.  Empty Styrofoam boxes that once held Antivan food was piled in the trash can, and they had just finished off the small cake from  _Lace's Bakery Shoppe_ that was most likely meant for a couple but eaten by two male mages that had no romantic relationship whatsoever instead.

"Hm?  No," Solas said casually.  He went to tuck his phone back into his pocket, but Dorian snatched it away.  He furrowed his brows momentarily before his entire face lit up in realization.  Solas clenched his jaw.

"Solas.   _Solas._ Oh, my dear Solas, you..."  Dorian barked a loud laugh.  "You  _like_ little Alaran, don't you?"

He took his phone back, grumbling, "I am in no way interested in Alaran Lavellan.  She is not what I initially made her out to be, but only that."

"Then why did you  _grin_ at her post?"

"Because I found it amusing."

"So you find  _her_ amusing."

"Would you stop emphasizing words?" Solas snapped, but it held no venom.

"Solas, I emphasize a word every  _sentence_ I speak," Dorian responded, twirling a mustache amusingly.  "And I'm your friend.  It pains me to think that you would hide something from me, especially when it comes to who you fancy." _  
_

"Let me repeat myself.  I do not like--"

"Alright, boys, you had better tell me what you two are doing here," Alaran sighed as she banged the door open, causing both of them to jump.  She raised an eyebrow.  "Whoa, take it easy.  I may be pale like a ghost, but you don't need to call the Winchester brothers on me."

Dorian fluidly stood and Solas' ears unexpectedly turned red.  His friend glanced down at them and his eyes immediately blazed with mischief.  "Whatever do you mean, darling?" Dorian questioned idly.  Alaran hopped on a table and crossed her legs.  She was wearing black jeans and a blue sweater with white boots that reached the bottom of her knees.   _  
_

"I forgot my coat."  She pointed to her blood red outerwear hanging limply on a coat rack.  "So I came in with the spare keys you gave me after I went shopping with Sera, thinking that nobody would be here at all, but oh no!  I find the two of you sitting around in a partially dark room and..."  Alaran sniffed.  "Did you guys go to Harding's bakery?"

"The one and only," Dorian chuckled.  

"What did you get--nope, nope, we're staying on topic."  Alaran fixed her intense violet eyes on them, her voice matching the sharpness of her demeanor.  "I want to know what is going on."

"No," Solas said seriously, "you don't."

Her gaze intimidated him.  Even sitting cross-legged, Alaran looked like she was sitting on the Sunburst Throne.

_...The Sunburst Throne?_

"Are you both involved in the underground mage and elven rebellion?"  A moment passed.  "Ah.  So you are."

Dorian slumped.  "Technically,  _I'm_ working for the underground mage rebellion, and  _Solas_ is working for the elven.  He just happened to be a mage, as well.  Our superiors had decided that we'd be stronger as one force."

Her face betrayed nothing.  Solas was quick to realize why the Tevinter had caved so easily.  "I want in."

Both of them stared at her in surprise.  Before Dorian could say something filled with emotion and little logic, Solas intervened.  "And what, exactly, could you offer?"  He wanted to look away, but refused to.  

"I'm the president of the University's biggest organization that supports and promotes the equal treatment of elves.  Numbers are now reaching fifteen hundred members, so we've had to establish branches of our organization that connect not only throughout Haven, but Ferelden, Orlais, and the Free Marches.  Any propaganda or information you want passed around, I can get it to elves my age, as well as any sympathizers more quickly than your people can alone.  I know how to manipulate, and I know how to think on my feet.  I'm smart; smarter than most.  The University, which has an upwards number of fifty thousand students, sees me as a figure of importance there.  If you have me as an ally, you have the University's."  It should have been impossible for Alaran's eyes to glow brighter, but they did.  "Also, I am assuming you know quite well who the Red Jennies are."

Both of them stiffened.  "Alaran..." Dorian said lowly.  "What are you involved with, already?"

She leaned forward, the smirk suddenly appearing on her face screaming risk and resolve.  "I have a friend in there.  She can get you places you can't.  For the right amount of money and favors, they'll help."

"And have you already spoken to them about this?" Solas pressed.  

"Yes.  I figured that if my own alliance with these rebellions wasn't enough, then I should come in with a little more leverage.  The Red Jennies see what others don't.  They look where others turn a blind eye, whether it be good or bad.  And they've had their eyes on you for some time."

"It seems so have you," Solas said.  He folded his arms.  Alaran's smirk adjusted specifically for him.

"Well, with the way a mysterious elven man who wasn't Dorian's boyfriend showed up, I couldn't help but be curious."

The statement was innocent.  Alaran meant nothing by it.  Yet even as he told himself that, Solas' ears turned pink.  Hopefully in the dim of the room she wouldn't notice.  

"And what would Varric think about this?"  Dorian still didn't look completely bought on having her join.

"Varric's a part of this whole thing, at least as a third party benefactor.  And he knows that whatever I get myself into, I'll be able to take care of myself.  As should you, Dorian."

This musician, this little Dalish elf, this...this _woman..._

She had plans to shake the world.

_She's done it once, before.  She can do it, again._

Solas blinked and stood.  Alaran did so as well, tilting her chin up at him in a way that wasn't proud or arrogant, but confident and assured.  It took a special person to be able to discern the difference between those.

"Dorian?  I am in favor of allowing Miss Lavellan to join our cause, but I will decline if you think it unwise."

The mage was silent for several moments as he considered the proposition.  Then he rolled his head and groaned.   _"Fine, fine._ We'll get you in contact with our superiors to discuss further what you can do."

Any cold steel in Alaran's face evaporated and she grinned.  "Awesome."  She stood on her tiptoes and gave Dorian a peck on the cheek.  Solas wasn't fully aware that she had given him one as well until she was already heading to grab her red coat.  Now he was blushing furiously.  "Don't talk about me too long," Alaran called over her shoulder as she walked to the door to let herself out.  "Oh, and I hope I'll see the both of you at the concert tomorrow.  Herald's Rest.  Eight o'clock.  Everybody will be there."

"Except for a drummer, apparently," Dorian jabbed teasingly.  "A shame, too; I quite liked Fenris."

"Yeah, well, the slaves in Tevinter needed him."  Alaran had turned so she was walking backwards.  "You should write to him, give him advice on how to work around everything there."

Dorian  _hmmed_ in thought.  "Perhaps I will."

Alaran waved goodbye to the both of them and exited.  Not three breaths after Dorian whirled to him.  "So.  Back to our original topic."

"No, Dorian," Solas said as he began collecting his things to depart.  "She is far too young for me--"

 _"Ah ha!_ So you  _do_ like her, but you have reservations about it all!"

"That's not--no--I did not say--"

But Dorian was already plotting a way to get them together.  Solas could see it in his eyes.  "You know, Alaran's never been one to have age as a standard.  She's been around older people all her life.  In fact, I think she acts older than many of us most of the time.  And did you honestly think  _Varric_ took care of her and not the other way around?"

Solas sighed, but withheld any answer.  He didn't know what he thought about it all.  And he didn't want to form an opinion any time soon.  There was much he needed to do and so little time to do it.  He wouldn't have time for any sort of romantic relationship, anyways.

"So I'll pick you up at seven-thirty?" Dorian suddenly asked.

"For what?" Solas said back as he shrugged on his dark gray woolen coat.

"Why, the concert, of course!  She invited  _both_ of us, if you didn't hear."

"Does this group of friends typically go to concerts on the weekends?  There seems to be a pattern."

"Oddly enough, yes, now that I think about it."

Solas sighed heavily.  He shouldn't.  

_And why not?_

Well...because...because he was an introverted elf who seemed to offend people rather than impress when first meeting them.  Typically he didn't like going to social events unless he was forced to.

"So?  What'll it be?"  Dorian jangled his keys in his hands.

"...Alright.  Pick me up at seven-thirty."  Solas couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth.  

Dorian snatched his keys that he was now tossing mid-air.  "Fantastic!"  They started to walk out together.  "Oh, and could you  _not_ dress like you're at work, for once?"

"What is wrong with my attire?" Solas said as his nose crinkled.

"Oh, nothing at all, if you're planning on sealing a merger and scaring the office secretary.  But this will be at a bar on the other side of the University.  Trust me, Solas.  You'll want to look casual.  Wait, do you even  _have_ casual clothes?"

"Of course I do," Solas scoffed.

At least he _thought_ he did. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the whole Harding and Iron Bull thing was something I didn't expect to happen, but the more I think about them the cuter I think they would be together. Originally I was going to pair Dorian and Bull up, but plans changed, obviously. Don't worry, though; Master Pavus will find his love. 
> 
> And here's the thing about Solas. In Thedas time, he's had thousands of years to master all his emotions, thoughts, and feelings. But here, he's just another mortal who's had only as much experience as everybody else. Which, as you can tell, isn't very much. He's not some ancient deity. He's just what he would have been if he didn't have the weight of an entire race of People weighing on his shoulders. I'm kind of excited to see how the relationship he has with Al will play out. Well, I'm excited to see how her relationship with everybody will play out.
> 
> And Hallah's and Deadpool's phone sex was weird. You didn't miss out on anything, trust me.
> 
> Oh, but don't miss out on staying lovely.


	6. The Miracle Arrives in the Form of an Egg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champions of Kirkwall perform at the Herald's Rest. Alaran rocks. As usual.

The Herald's Rest was already crowded by the time I showed up.  The men came for Isabela, the women came for Hawke, and a little bit of vice versa, but they all stayed because the Champions of Kirkwall were a freaking good band.  

"Still no drummer?" I asked as I got my electric violin ready.  

"No, but we're hoping for a miracle," Isabela sighed.  She tossed her hair over her shoulder and applied bronzer to the defined swell of her dark breasts.  "I doubt the Maker will help us.  Do you think your Dalish gods would aid us?"

"All my gods are dead," I stated matter-of-factly.  She made a face.

"Well, that's no use at all."  

"Al!  Hey, Al!" Hawke shouted as he made his way through the crowd and over to the area where we were all preparing.  There was already a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his brow, but most people would only be focused on his looks.  That, and the red smear of "war paint" he always slashed across the bridge of his nose.  

"What?"

"You should sing with us!"

"No."

He momentarily deflated before coming back up, again.  "Just one song!  I promise you, it'll be great!"

"I'm a violinist, not a singer."

"You're a  _lot_ of things, but singleizing yourself to one thing isn't one of them."

I raised an eyebrow.  "I don't think _singleizing_ is a word, but okay."

"Am I right, though?"

I sighed.  "...Yeah."

 _"Come on Alaran live a little,"_ Anders said as he took my shoulders in his hands and shook me.  I let my head flop back and forth.

 _"Fiiiiinnneee,_ " I said, my voice bobbing up and down with the motions Anders was making my body do.  "One song.  And I get to choose."

"Name it," Hawke beamed.  I considered it for a moment.

 _"Black Betty._  But you guys don't even have a drummer.  How're you going to play?"

"We have our good luck charm," Anders said noncommittally, jerking his thumb over to Merrill, who was propping up her keyboard.  She looked up in surprise at the mention of her name, then smiled brightly.  "See?"  He flicked his unnecessary sunglasses back down.

"Oi, outta my way, outta my way, mate," a raucous voice shouted over the low roar of the bar.  I looked up and saw Sera pushing her way through.

"Dang, isn't somebody hot," I smirked.  Sera giggled.

"Damn right I am.  You know how fockin long it took me to get this amount of makeup on?  But look at you!  Holy fock, Ally, never thought something like that even existed in your closet!"

"Yeah, well, they're solely for things like this."

"Then things like this should happen more often.  I like to surround myself with pretty girls, after all," she winked.  I rolled my eyes.  Sera's gaze then flickered to Isabela and stuck.  Her jaw even dropped.  "Woof.  Introduce me to  _her,_ sometime."

"Will do, Sera, will do," I chuckled, then crouched down to set up my stomp box.  

"Ooh, bringing out the big guns tonight," Hawke grinned as Sera wandered back to where Varric, Cassandra and Josie were sitting.  He helped me plug it into all the right outlets.

"Well, I figure that if you don't get a drummer, I can at least start a beat up," I muttered with an absent smirk, then tucked my hair behind my ear.  When I glanced back up I caught Hawke staring at me.  I poked my tongue out at him, and he grinned and flicked my ear.  "Ow!  Hey!  Rude!"

Hawke was about to say something most likely snarky, but a loud, naturally-pompous voice interrupted him.  "Your number one fans have arrived!"

I looked over Hawke's shoulder and saw Dorian Pavus looking immaculate even dressed in a casual jacket and a black T-shirt with purple jeans.  No man should be able to pull off purple denims, but he could.  It was some kind of special ability.

Beside Dorian was Solas.  I raised a disbelieving eyebrow and let a laugh escape through my lips.  Despite looking thoroughly uncomfortable, the elf wore an olive green V-neck with dark blue jeans and a brown, wool-lined leather jacket.  I stood up, my smirk widening when I saw his gray-blue eyes visibly go up and down my entire body.  "I'm glad the couple could make it," I said, and let my bow rest on my shoulder.  

"Darling, if we were a couple, we would shut this place down," Dorian teased.  "But unfortunately, it'll just be me doing all the handiwork tonight."

"Hey, leave the fingering to me, Dorian," Hawke said seriously.  Solas and I made slightly disgusted faces as Dorian and Hawke laughed.  

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad you two can make it," I said, changing the topic before things would get too perverse.

"Are you still without a drummer?" my boss asked us, his finger trailing upward to twirl his mustache.  I honestly doubted he even knew he was doing it.  

"As of now?  Yes.  But five minutes from now?  We just might," Hawke said as he pointed a finger at Dorian.  He then casually put an arm around me.  "We still got fifteen minutes before we start."

It could have been my imagination, but I swore I thought I had seen Solas' eyes flash when Hawke drew me in close to him. "I can play," he then stated coolly.  

Hawke, Dorian and I blinked almost in sync.  But Hawke was the first to respond.  He withdrew himself from around me and clasped his hands on each of Solas' leather-clad arms, laughing richly.

"I knew there was a rebellious elf somewhere underneath all that dustiness!  It was the leather jacket that brought it out, wasn't it?  They have that effect on people.  Oh, come here, you!"  Hawke then pulled Solas into a giant hug.  His legs were rods as he was lifted momentarily off his feet.  Hawke wasn't much taller than him, but the bulk between the two varied greatly.  

"Well," I huffed.   _"This_ was unexpected."

"You're telling me," Dorian said dryly.  We both watched as Hawke led Solas over to the drum set that they had set up in chance of a miracle.  And, well, a miracle had come in the form of a man whose aesthetics were slim suits and baskets of eggs.  "If the night gets any weirder, be sure that I'm drunk for it.  Oh, and by the way, love your outfit.  You always pull off rocker-slut so well."

"I know, right?" I laughed, and looked down at what I was wearing.  I wore light blue high-waisted jeans and a maroon, capped sleeved crop top that clung tightly to my body, revealing a band of visible porcelain skin that most definitely had outlines of a six-pack.  The black covered wedges on my feet raised me a good four inches off the ground.  My white hair was teased by Isabela to add volume.  And if anybody knew anything about volume, it was the Rivaini.  Everything about her was  _voluminous._ _  
_

"And what did Varric say about this whole get-up?"

I cleared my throat and puffed out my chest to imitate him.   _"'Al, I don't know.  You're gonna freeze--oh, Andraste's tits, at least put a sweater on until we get to the bar.'"_

Dorian barked a laugh and crossed his arms.  "Sounds about right.  But he's not as bad about it, anymore."

"Nah.  Once I got into college he stopped trying to put a garbage sack over me anytime I wore something that didn't go down to my shins.  But," I shrugged, "I can't complain about somebody caring for me."

"And that he does," Dorian smiled.  "Well, I'd better let you finish getting ready.  Oh, and who's your elf friend?  I like her."

"That's Sera.  Raging lesbian, one helluva riot.  Just watch your wallet."

-

Solas didn't know what he was doing.  

Then again, that thought was mostly what ran through his head after meeting Alaran Lavellan.

She just made him so... _not_ him.  Normally Solas was level-headed and considered any action before he made them.  But as she stood up with her black electric violin and its accompanying bow, dressed in semi-provocative clothes and tousled hair, Solas' mouth went dry, all rational thoughts left his mind, and he felt his ears turn red.  He should get used to the fact that anytime he was around her he was in some sort of perpetual blush or another.

_He was getting as bad as Cullen._

So when Hawke mentioned that they were still in need of a drummer, Solas found himself gushing out that he could play.  He had been half distracted by the fact that the bearded mage--who sent out an  _odd,_ blatant aura--had his arm around Alaran.  She had slightly stiffened in what he hoped to be was a sign of her being uncomfortable, but other than that revealed nothing.  His statement  _had_ gotten that arm off, though.  Except it resulted in Hawke's arms around Solas.  He caught a glimpse of Alaran over the man's shoulder.  There was a smirk on her face and her violet eyes danced with respect and amusement.

After he had been set up and introduced to all the band members, Alaran made her way over to Solas.  "Can you  _actually_ play?" she asked doubtfully, but there was playfulness in her voice.  

Solas allowed the corners of his lips to quirk upward.  "You will have to decide for yourself as to whether or not I can.  It is all but a matter of opinion."

She snorted, and Solas had to concentrate on her face and not the muscles contracting on her exposed stomach.  "Yeah, well, I hope you know how to improvise.  Most of these songs are original."  She shot him winked, and the drumstick Solas was beginning to twirl between his fingers slipped and clattered to the ground.  He hurriedly reached down to grab it as his ears were filled with Alaran's kind, chiming laughter that carried throughout the bar.  "Hope you don't do that in the middle of our performance.  Now  _that_ would be embarrassing."

Solas found himself smiling, too, and breathing a laugh.  "I seem to be very good at doing that in front of you."

She didn't miss a beat.  "Well, then you should probably expand on that; I can't laugh at you doing things  _forever,_ you know.  Well--actually, I can, but that's besides the point."

"Looks like we're about to start," Anders said, adjusting his strap on his guitar.  The bar had its full attention on them, now.  

"Try and keep up, would you?" Alaran sighed as she walked over to her spot by the stomp box.  

The drumsticks felt natural in Solas' hands.  It was as if he had never quit.  Hawke introduced them as the Champions of Kirkwall.  In the near corner was the Inner Circle, with a blond city elf Solas didn't recognize, as well as the dwarf and the one-eyed Qunari that ran  _Lace's Bakery Shoppe._ She sat in his massive lap, and giggled as he whispered something in her ear.  Of course they would know those two.  

His eyes kept drifting over to the white-haired elf who was expertly sawing and beating her hand against her violin and creating a rhythm with her stomp box that rode well with all the songs.  Solas kept up easily, especially with the covers they did do.  In fact, he did more than keep up.  Despite that, he soon found his forehead slicked with well-earned sweat and his body bobbing back and forth.  Adrenaline and euphoria combined to create a nearly explosive concoction in Solas' chest.  Why had he quit, again?

_The tang of metal coated Solas' nostrils as he cradled her in his arms, forcing all his mana into healing her broken body.  It did nothing, though, and before she could say any parting words that Solas knew would rend his heart even more, her last breath rattled through her throat and she became still, oh so still--_

Hawke and Anders finished playing their last chords.  Solas topped it off with a few resounding drumbeats, and the bar erupted into loud applause and cheering.  Hawke gripped the microphone.  His breathing was heavy and his dark hair clung to his forehead, but his hazel eyes were wild and his grin wilder.  "It's been a pleasure playing for all of you tonight, but we have one last thing we need to let you hear before we go.  Alaran, would you be so kind to come up here?"

There were a few whistles and whoops as she strode up next to Hawke.  The loudest came from Sera, Dorian, and the Qunari.  Again, he put his arm over her shoulder.  Solas looked down at the rim of one of the drums and tried to discern his blurry reflection.

_He wasn't jealous._

_He didn't like Alaran._

"Let's show them I'm not the only pretty one up here that can sing, huh?" Hawke continued to say.  That made Solas' gaze return to their backs.  

"You just want to give them a break from listening to your voice," Alaran jabbed.  He could hear the smile in her voice.  There were  _ooohs_ from the crowd, which had only grown the longer they played.  

Hawke lifted his arm to make a surrendering gesture.  Alaran laughed and traded her electric violin for the guitar Anders was holding out to her.  She slung the black strap over her shoulder and strummed a few deep chords.  "What do you folks say?  Should we hear her play?" Hawke asked the bar.  The cheers in response gave a definite answer.

"Alright, well, once again this is a song that this scruffy man over here made," Alaran said into the microphone, gesturing to Hawke.  "It's called  _Black Betty."_ She looked back over to Solas, smirking.  "Keep up, yeah?"

"I've been doing it the whole time," Solas said back evenly.  "I think I can manage."

"Oh, no," Isabela chuckled over from her spot.  "You really can't.  Just don't make us look stupid is what she's trying to say."

Before Solas could say something else, Alaran's simple strumming she had done only moments before turned into a heavy, rock 'n' roll rhythm.  Solas quickly accompanied her with an even beat.  Her body swayed and moved with the music she was producing.  Hawke followed suit.  Then together they started to sing.  Their voices complemented each other nicely, but Alaran definitely took the show.  Her pitch was melodious and sultry, yet had, in lack of better terms, spunk.  

He was just beginning to wonder when the actual hard part was coming when Hawke took a few steps back, simmering into his beat and letting Alaran have the spotlight.  Only a moment after that had been done did Solas  _really_ begin to sweat.  He knew she could play, from the pictures he had seen of her on Facebook, but not...not like  _this._ His drumsticks became a blur as he was forced to improvise everything without hardly any consideration.  Alaran was playing like somebody who had decades of experience, not twenty-three.  And he doubted she played when she was a young girl.

Solas could feel his brows deeply furrowing as he desperately tried to keep up.  In all reality, the entire band was trying to keep up.  He dared to glance at the Champions of Kirkwall and saw that they wore similar expressions as he did.  All except for Anders.  He had sat this song out when Alaran took over his guitar, and looked completely relieved that he had chosen to do so.

When Alaran eased off, she turned to her side and opened up partway to Solas, flipping her hair over her shoulder with the shake of her head.  Her eyes challenged Solas, and she gave an urging chord right at him.  He accepted the invite and moved fluidly into a solo, pushing the last of his strength and some of his mana into playing.  Solas was aware of how he was biting his lip.  It was a shame, too, because that had been a habit he thought he had broken some time ago.  

Once he finished the crowd went wild and Alaran and Hawke began playing together once more.  Solas had to steady his rapid breathing, and was suddenly dying from heat.  He used some of his magic to cool down his body, but he was parched.  After he got a drink, he would force Dorian to leave.  It was late, he was tired, he shouldn't have come...

"...And give a  _huge_ round of applause to our drummer, Ser Solas!" Alaran shouted over the din of the bar.  Solas froze, not knowing what to do other than give a small nod of the head as the noise was directed at him.  The Inner Circle made the loudest noise.  

Perhaps this night didn't turn out quite as bad as Solas had thought.  

"Goodnight, everybody!" Hawke said with a fist raised in the air.  Solas stood, his stiff legs groaning in protest.  Isabela was the first to come and greet him.

"Well fuck me, that was fantastic!" she beamed.  Then she leaned in close.  "No, really.  If you want to fuck, I'm down."

Solas stood there, unable to come up with something not insulting and intelligent to say.  Alaran intervened, thankfully.  "Shoo, Isabela, shoo!  Don't make me get the holy water squirt bottle to purify your thoughts!"

"Then what fun would I be?" Isabela laughed.  Her eyes roamed over Solas hungrily.  "He's not so bad.  There's some kind of body under there, I'm sure.  I'd just lend a hand to help him get out of those clothes, that's all."

"Uh huh, sure," Alaran deadpanned.  She pushed back her white hair.  Sweat glistened on her porcelain forehead, but she didn't look fatigued.  "Get outta here, ya horn dog."

"I'll be nearby if you ever feel up to it,  _Ser Solas,_ " Isabela said as she winked.  "You think tonight helped to you loosen up?  Wait until I have you wrapped between my thighs."

"They're very strong, too," added Alaran, looking down at the Rivaini's legs that were covered by skin tight white denims.  "If you ever find yourself in them, just ride the storm through, 'cause you ain't getting out."

Solas was glad he was already red from his exertion just minutes ago, otherwise he'd be thoroughly pink in the face.  

"Get loaded up," Anders said as he got back his guitar from Alaran.  "We're going to Al's and Varric's place."

Isabela pouted.  "But the party here is just getting started!"

"Yeah, with a few kind Templars to oversee everything," Hawke commented lowly as he joined the conversation.  They all looked over at the enforcers donned in their dark Templar suits sitting at the back of the bar.  Solas felt his mana spasm.  They acted perfectly casual, but they were sending out feelers to see how many mages were in the place.  Sooner or later they would pinpoint a certain magic-wielding person and follow them home, waiting for them to do something semi-illegal, then fall on them with savage ferocity.  After that, the person's family would receive a notice saying that their loved one had been sent to a Circle for rehabilitation.  

"Let's get out of here," Alaran stated.  Solas helped them pack up their instruments into the beaten-down van sitting out back in a cold, grimy alley that smelled like piss and garbage.  Alaran took in a deep breath.   _"Ah._ Don't you just love the smell of freedom?"

"It's...peculiar," Merrill said, trying to keep her face from looking disgusted, but failing.  Anders snorted.

"Yes,  _very_ peculiar."

Hawke looked around as if he had a case of deja-vu.  "I think I peed back here, once."

"You and about a hundred others," Isabela said.  "Including me."

The Inner Circle came through the door, and Solas was caught up in a flurry of "well done's!" and "great job's!" and "never in a million years would I have that that you, a stuffy elven mage, played the drums like a teenage rebel's!"  The last one had been Dorian's words, specifically.  He gave Solas his leather jacket.  "You'll have to tell me how exactly you learned to play like that, and  _when._ But..." Dorian looked over at Alaran, who was approaching them.  He smirked at Solas and patted the side of his cheek.  Solas made a disgruntled face.  "For now, enjoy the praise from your so-called rival."  Dorian left to go speak with Hawke and Varric, and Alaran took up his spot.  She was wearing a hoodie with a velociraptor holding a battle ax and shooting lasers out of its eyes.  An unexpected laugh bubbled to his lips.  Alaran looked down at the picture.  

"Yeah, tell me about it," she chuckled.  When she looked back up, Solas saw that her violet eyes were dancing in the dim light of the lampposts that spilled light into the alley from the street beyond.  

His breath caught.

"And hey, thanks for offering to play," Alaran went on.  "You did amazing, for somebody who crinkled his nose at my haircut only a couple of weeks ago.  I think I have it figured out why you did, though," she said before Solas could get a jab in.  "It's because I wasn't fully emulating your baldness, huh?  You would rather hair be on the head entirely or not there at all.  But not everybody has to suffer from premature baldness--"

"I do not suffer from that--"

"So we can actually do whatever we want with said hair," Alaran finished with a smirk, taking a hand out of her pocket and gesturing to her wild mane and tucking it behind her ear.  "So why did you quit?"

The sudden question momentarily took Solas off-guard.   _Coming home and seeing how everything was so normal and so idyllic disgusted him, and his vision blackened until he was standing in the middle of a wrecked apartment.  His drum set was nearly unrecognizable from the damage it had taken.  But Solas didn't care.  There was only one thing he should have cared about.  And only one thing he ever would care about, from that moment on.  The days of him being a reckless idiot were over.  No more._

_The very next day he bought his first suit._

"I had to grow up," Solas said simply.  It was partially the truth.

Alaran's eyebrow twitched, but her expression was surprisingly understanding.  "Well," she said, leaning in close.  "You know there's no point in being an adult if you can't be a little childish, every once in a while."

"Do not quote _Doctor Who_ to me as if I don't know it,  _da'len,_ " Solas responded in a similar low, conspiratorial voice.  

Her smirk grew.  "Shh, I can't let the others know that I actually just use quotes from shows and movies to make me sound wise and intelligent."

"Your secret is safe with me."

-

I lay sprawled out on the bean bag with my eyes partially closed.  It made me look like I was half-asleep, but really I was going through everything that I would have to work on and practice before the next time I was asked to do a show with the Champions of Kirkwall.  A few of my chords on the guitar were off; I would have to set some time aside to work on it.

Like I had enough time, anymore, with the stuff I was doing for the rebellion.  This would probably be the last night I would have with my friends before I was too busy putting my own lots in to shaping the world.  

With that thought I opened my eyes fully and sat up, stifling a yawn.  Okay, so maybe I was a bit tired.  I doubted I would be going to sleep with all the people in the apartment, though.  Not only were my usual friends here, but Lace, Iron Bull, Sera, and the Champions as well.  I drank in the scene before me, a small smile trailing across my lips.   _Snapshot._

_The picture still isn't complete._

My smile slipped into a faint frown.  Where the heck had that thought come from?

Before I could ponder on it too long, there was a resounding knock on the door.  I hopped up from my spot and stood on my tip toes to see who it was through the peephole.  My nerves spiked and I spun around and aggressively motioned for somebody to turn down the volume of both their voices and the music.  "Who is it?" Varric asked loudly.  

"The police!" I hissed before opening the door and greeted the officers with a pleasant smile.  "Hello," I said happily.  "How can I help you?"

There were two of them.  One was a tall, broad, blonde man and the other was stouter and had a dark, thick bear shaped into two pointed prongs about halfway down.  I raised an eyebrow.  "I didn't know police officers could have beards," I said before I could stop myself.  His eyes widened as if he recognized me.

"Yes, well, we've received a noise complaint from one of your neighbors," said the blonde officer.  I looked at his badge and saw  _C. Rutherford_ printed on it.  

"Well, Officer Rutherford, I'll have you know that our neighbors are stuck-up dill holes that are just jealous they can't party like we can," I smirked.  "But we'll  _adhere_ to tuning it down.  Thank you for stopping by."

"You're Alaran Lavellan, aren't you?" said the other officer.   _T. Rainier_ was on his badge.  

"That's my name, don't wear it out," I replied.  "Do I know you?"

"Er,  no, but I went to your concert at the University last Friday," he said, averting his eyes a bit uncomfortably.  "It was a fantastic performance."

I dramatically fanned my face.  "Oh, stop it.  You're making me blush."

Officer Rainier chuckled.  "I humbly beg your forgiveness, my lady."

"Oh, now it's 'my lady?'  I should make more noise in this apartment if I get called things like that," I smirked.

Varric came to stand beside me, striking up an amiable conversation with the two policemen, ensuring them that we would keep the noise down so our  _wonderful_ neighbors could sleep with their hairless nugs dressed in sweaters in peace (and yes, the last part was shouted).  

"We have to ask this as part as our jobs as police officers," Rainier said after everything was all cleared, "but are you partaking in any illegal magical practices?"

 _With six mages all gathered in one place, who are at some level of intoxicated?  Absolutely not.  We really weren't just playing the magical version of Cards Against Humanity._ "No, officers, wouldn't dream of it," Varric said so smoothly it screamed that he was blatantly lying.  Rutherford and Rainier shared a glance before responding.

"Alright, well, have a safe evening," Officer Rutherford said with the slight tip of his hat.  They both turned to depart, but Rainier hesitated for a moment before turning back around to me.

"Pardon the question, my lady, but do you happen to know a woman with a Mohawk?"

I turtle-frowned in confusion.  "What?"

Rutherford sighed and ran a hand down his face.  "Blackwall, let it go."

"Wait a second," Varric said slowly, "you're not talking about a naked lady with a Mohawk who was running down the street and happened to knock me down, are you?"

I laughed.  "I still wish I had seen that sight."

"We shouldn't be sharing unnecessary information," said Rainier's partner.  After a moment, there was a quick nod from the gruff officer who I bet was a big softy inside.  

"You're right.  I apologize.  Have a nice night."

After the two turned the corner of the hall, Varric and I receded back into our apartment.  That was slightly weird.  Had the lady been asking for me?  Or did they just recognize Varric and make the connection?  Either way, I joined in on the resuming game of the magical Cards Against Humanity.

_I knew Blackwall and Cullen would be partners in crime--or law, in this case--from the way they both lost horribly at Wicked Grace.  It was--_

A hand flung to my forehead and I took in a sharp breath.  "Oh,  _ow,_ " I winced.  "What the freak?"

"Everythin' alright, Ally?" Sera asked me.

"Yeah, I think so.  Just got a sharp pain in my head, that's all.  And no, Varric, I don't need to go to bed.  I'm perfectly fine.  It was probably just my brain telling me that I'm too smart for my own good."

_The psychic paper was blank, and rain drizzled down.  They all stood behind me and in front of me.  My back was laden with my sword, and my memories were laden with--_

I gritted my teeth and  **forced**  whatever was invading my mind out.  Something instinctive and primal inside me warned that if I tried to unravel whatever it was that had presented itself before me, something very bad would happen.

Fear settled in my chest.  Just what was there, exactly?  What had I not realized was in my mind?  Was I missing something?  If I could just _maybe_...

Next to me, Solas suddenly stiffened and stifled a soft moan.  He pressed a hand over his stomach.  "Excuse me," he said calmly, then stood and walked down the hall.  Nobody paid him any attention.  They were too busy seeing what would go well with the card.  As he left, what I thought was fear faded, but it was quickly replaced with concern.  I made something up about needing a thing in my bedroom, then made my way through the hall, passing the bathroom door on my way to probably put some deodorant on or something.  When I heard muffled retching noises I backtracked and made sure that nobody saw me in their line of vision before I knocked.  "Solas?" I asked quietly.  "Everything okay?"

"Ah, yes," he said back, but he sounded quaky and breathless.  "I am.  Just give me a moment."

"Anders is a really good healer.  I could get him, if you wanted," I said, dropping my voice even lower so I wouldn't draw attention.  

He managed to chuckle.  "No.  It is fine.  It was just the alcohol I drank on an empty stomach, that's all."

I doubted it was, but I didn't say anything about it.  "Well, feel free to use the mouthwash in the medicine cabinet.  My favorite is the green one.  Only use the blue if you want your mouth to go numb."

"Th--" Solas started, but it was cut off as he retched again.  I cringed.  The sounds or smells of bodily fluids never bothered me.  

"You sure you're okay?"

After a moment, I heard a "yes," but it was echo-y and faint.  I rolled my head back and bit down a moan.  I couldn't believe I was doing what I was about to do.  

I turned the knob slowly, checking to see if it was unlocked.  When I found it was, I poked my head in and saw the pitiful sight of Solas hunched over the toilet bowl.  He lifted his head up enough to look at me sidelong.  I smirked.  "At least you're not crying like some teenage girl," I said with a small shrug, and stepped into the bathroom so I could sit cross-legged beside him.  

"I would urge you to leave, but I doubt you really will," Solas said sarcastically despite the position he was in.  

"Nope," I said back.  I patted his back awkwardly a few times until I was able to be comfortable enough to rub it.  Solas relaxed an inch.  "You're stuck with me until you feel better.  Besides, we're Facebook friends!  Bonds like that last forever, you know."

"And _why_ are you doing this?" he asked, adjusting so he could press his forehead against his arm.  

"Because I want to see you suffer."

He huffed a laugh.  "That does make sense."

"I also wanted to make sure you didn't steal my shower curtain."  I looked over at it, and Solas slowly rotated his head so he could see it as well.  

"Yes.  I have always secretly wanted to shower beside a sloth dressed as Princess Leia."

 _"I knew itttt,"_ I said, quoting  _Tommy Boy._

Solas squirmed and convulsed as he emptied more of his stomach.  I spoke soothing words as he did so.

Well.  A party wouldn't be a party if there wasn't a white egg puking in the toilet.  

Or was it girl?  A white girl?  I couldn't remember.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yes, I know that Black Betty is actually by Ram Jam, but I've kind of been obsessed with the song as of late, and I couldn't picture anybody but Al playing it. I told myself that she and Hawke weren't going to have a relationship besides being like brother and sister, but now I'm not so sure. The tag still stands, though, and it'll stay that way. I'm just having a bit of fun right now. Hue hue hue. And yes, Solas was somewhat of a punk back in the day. *Holds up an egg like Flynn Rider holding up a frying pan* Who knew, right? 
> 
> What I do know, though, is that all of you are lovely. Please stay that way.


	7. The Unknown Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al meets with somebody, then something happens that isn't very nice.

"My palms are sweaty why are my palms sweaty?"

"Because you are nervous."

 _"Pfft._ Alaran Lavellan does  _not_ get nervous."  I wiped my hands on the black pencil skirt I was wearing.  I had even dressed  _up_ for this, power suit and all.  I was supposed to look cool and confident--which I totally did--but inside I was a surprising roil of emotions.  I had dealt with plenty of people who had more power than I did, for sure, but none with as much dangerous potential and the means to kill me, if they saw fit.  "It's hot in here, that's all."

"Hmm.  Yes, well, if you'll direct your attention to the temperature dial on the dashboard, you'll find that it is, in fact, warm, but not hot.  And..."  Solas put his hand up to the vent.  "The air is coming out at the rate of a slow summer breeze."

I made a face   _"The eir is comin out at the rayte of a slew semmer brease,"_ I mocked childishly.  "Whatever."

"I would encourage you to not speak like that to my superior," Solas continued evenly.  "Or you  _will_ feel very hot.  Because--"

"Because I'll be on fire.  Yeah.  I saw that one coming ten years ago," I cut off sarcastically.  

"It may just be my imagination, but it seems that you are speaking in such a manner is due to the fact that you are nervous."  

I folded my arms, grumbling, "I'm not nervous you're nervous," under my breath.  We drove the rest of the way in silence to where this  _Witch of the Wilds_ resided.  Instead of being like a typical rebellion leader, she didn't choose to meet up in abandoned warehouses and decrepit wharves to conduct business.  We were headed to her house.  In the suburbs.  On the fancy side of Haven, where they gave out full-sized candy bars on Halloween.  Which was only two days away, I realized.  And that meant Varric Tethras' Halloween Bash would be two days away, as well.  Why was he such a social dwarf, again?  

_There shouldn't be a Halloween._

"Ooh, this is her home?" I asked as we pulled into the rather large driveway.  In front of us was a two story house brightly illuminated with lights emanating from the inside.  The house itself was white, but I couldn't discern the color of its roof from the darkness that currently shrouded us.  

"Yes.  She likes to keep up appearances so as not to attract attention," Solas said as he stepped out.  I moved to do the same, but he ducked his head back in and commanded, "Wait."

I paused, unsure of what to do.  Was he going to go in first and tell his boss we were here?  Was he going to make sure there were no Templars around?  Was he--

Solas opened my door for me.  I internally face-palmed.  Of course he had to be an ass  _and_ a gentleman.  

I fluidly swung my legs out of his car and stepped into the frigid night air.  My sheer black pantyhose did little to protect my legs from the temperature.  One second I had been hot, then the next I had been cold, I'm yes, then I'm no, I'm in and I'm out, I'm up and my dowwwwnn

_Inquisitor.  Focus!_

My head throbbed suddenly and I slightly grimaced as I rubbed my forehead in an attempt to alleviate some of it before I made it up to the stairs.  Solas drew in a steady breath.  I looked up at him.  "You okay?"

"Yes.  My stomach has suddenly decided to become sick, at the moment.  That is all."

"You want me to rub your back while you throw up in those beautifully trimmed bushes?" I questioned, pointing over to the shrubbery lining the edge of the house.  Solas shook his head and faintly smiled.

"No.  It was just a passing feeling, it seems."

"Why Solas, are  _you_ nervous?"  

We walked up the porch steps.  Solas pressed a slender finger to the ornate doorbell.  I forced myself not to tap my foot.  "If the time comes that I am nervous, you should have cause to worry," he responded quietly.

"That still doesn't answer my question as to whether or not you're nervous."

"No.  I am not.  Well--no."

"That's not very com--"

The door opened.  A woman dressed in slim mom jeans with her lavender blouse tucked into it greeted us with a dark smile that screamed  _watch out for me._ Her raven black hair was tied back into a pony tail, and her bangs swept over her forehead.  "Welcome," she said.  Her voice was gravelly and sultry, and her vivid yellow eyes bore into me.  "Do come in." _  
_

A heavy incense hung in the air, and I had to refrain from rubbing my nose.  Other than the smell, everything was...perfectly normal.  Oh, this lady was good.

"Alaran Lavellan, I presume?" she asked as she held out her hand.  I shook it twice. 

"Yes."

"My name is Morrigan.  And I believe what you have could be very beneficial to our cause."

-

A few minutes down the road I blurted out, "What just happened?  I thought you were part of the  _elven_ rebellion.  I thought I would be meeting with whoever is the head of that first, then play my hand with the mages, not the other way around."

"They are both intertwined so elaborately, now, that going to one or the other first would not have mattered.  I am sure that Morrigan is contacting my official superior as we speak, though."

"Is your  _official superior_ some paranoid nut?"

The corners of his lips quirked upwards.  "Somewhat."

"And why won't you tell me their name?"

"It is a matter of privacy.  She would be most displeased if I blatantly said it out loud."

 _"Ah ha!_ So it's a she!"  I settled smugly into my seat.  "That narrows down the population by half.  I can go from here."

Solas snorted.  "Yes.  Good luck with that."

"Do you think I did well in there?  I thought I did."

"Morrigan was impressed, and that does not happen easily.  Though we do not see eye-to-eye on everything, I know her well enough to tell if she is truly invested in something.  Or somebody."

I closed my fist and brought it down in front of my face, hissing,  _"Yessss."_

 _"Lethallan,"_ Solas said, "what made you want to be a part of all this?"

I considered saying something sarcastic and stupid to get him off my back, but decided against it.  "I am a Dalish elf who has struggled all my life to make it where I am today.  Nobody should have to be discriminated against for the shape of their ears, or even the tattoos on their face.  I believe that everybody should have the right to pursue their happiness, elves and mages alike."  I turned my head to stare out the window, at the shops that were still open and the yellow light the lampposts gave off.  "Maker, since when has anybody had the right to deem who should be happy and who shouldn't?"  My fists involuntarily balled into fists.  "The world is a cruel place, I know.  I know that too well.  And before this is all over it will become even crueler.  That's the way things like this come to pass, unfortunately.  But I can make a difference in how cruel it will be.  If I can replace just  _one_ frown or tear with a smile or a light heart, then I'll be satisfied with my contributions.  I expect myself to help much more, though.  Much more."

There were several moments of silence as Solas considered my words.  Then he said, "What do you plan to do?"

"What do you mean."  I didn't bother trying to mask it with a question.  I knew exactly what he was trying to get at.

"You speak of bravery and compassion, which is admirable, I must admit.  But those are not the only motivations for your actions.  You have more in mind."

"Yes.  I do."  I couldn't believe I had even  _confessed_ this much to Solas, already.  I should stop.  I should really stop.  "And it terrifies me."

"It is not a bad thing, to have terror in your heart when striking it in others."

I scoffed.  "That's a contradiction.  I shouldn't fear who I am to become, yet I do."

"Destiny is not often a light weight to carry."

"Okay, let's not get into that whole  _destiny_ and  _purpose_ subject," I said, straightening my shoulders and looking over to Solas.  "I can never tell whether or not it's a load of bullshit or a resounding reality."

"Can it not be both?"

"Probably.  But that would make it more difficult to discuss, which is why--again--I don't want to get into that subject."

"If you did have a destiny, though, would you embrace it?"

"If I did have a destiny, Solas, haven't I already?"

He chuckled.  "A fair point."

My stomach grumbled loudly.  I gripped it and sunk into the seat, groaning.  "Oh, man, I forgot to eat.  Well, I didn't  _forget_ to eat.  I'm just hungry again."

"When was it that you ate?"

"Uh, about thirty minutes before you picked me up," I said, slightly wary.  

"You get hungry after an hour and a half?"

"Hey, I'm  _always_ hungry.  In place of a stomach there's a bottomless pit," I corrected.  "I think I have an incredibly fast stamina, that's all.  That, or there's something inside me that takes all my energy.  And I don't think I'm pregnant, so we're back to the first."

"Would you like to eat somewhere?" Solas suggested.  I shrugged, playing off the fact that he had spontaneously asked me out to dinner.   _Psh._ It wouldn't be a date.  I was hungry, home was another thirty minutes away, and Varric and I hadn't gone grocery shopping yet this week.  

"I would love to," I responded.  "But it's pretty late; I don't think a lot of restaurants would be open.  Except--ooh, ooh!  Go here!  Turn!  TURN NOW!"

Solas slammed on his brakes and veered into the parking lot.  There were horns honking behind him as other cars on the street passed.  I giggled and grimaced as Solas breathed heavily.  "Do...do not do that again," he panted as he parked the car.  I tossed my head back and laughed.  

"Did I scare you?  Aw, I  _did."_

"Well, anyone is bound to be scared when they are screamed at by somebody else at the top of their lungs."

"Really?  I had no idea.  I'll keep that in mind."  I moved to open the door, but Solas shot me a sharp look.  I drew my hands back and raised them in surrender.  "Okay, okay, I won't open the door."

"Thank you."  He unbuckled himself and got out, crossing the front of the car and opening it for me.

When I was on my feet I said, "You know, if I really wanted to, I could go total feminist on you for doing that."

"Ah.  I suppose you could."  Solas opened the door for me to the diner we had found ourselves at.

 _"Ma serannas._ Yeah, I'd claim that I'm not treated like the fully independent woman that I am, and that you are stereotyping me because of my gender."

"But will you?"

 _"Pfft._ No.  Except, if you're going to be chivalrous, you had better prove it to me that you really are by entering an old-fashioned jousting tournament."  We took a seat in one of the booths.

Solas looked at me with amusement.  "And I suppose you'd give me a white handkerchief if I am victorious?"

"Not only would I give you a handkerchief, but I'd give you a fifteen dollar gift card to Starbucks."

He crinkled his nose.  "Starbucks," he spat irritatedly.  "They never spell my name right."

"What," I teased, "do they spell it Sol-Ass?"

He huffed a laugh.  "That _has_ happened more than I care to admit."

My eyebrows rose.   _"Seriously?"_ I covered my mouth so Solas wouldn't see my wide grin.  "That's amazing."

"Yes, it is certainly  _amazing_ when the barista calls out your name pronounced like how it is written and you have to come forth," Solas said dryly.  I crossed my arms on the table and buried my head in them, my body shaking with silent laughter.  It was so  _fitting._ Sol-Ass.   _Sol-Ass._ Solass, up to his Solassery, Solassering around Solassville.

I had to lift my head back up when the waitress took our orders.  Solas got chicken strips and a slice of pie, while I got a double cheeseburger, fries, a lemonade, and a piece of pie as well.  "Will you be able to eat that much?" he asked me after the lady left.

"Are you kidding me?  Solas, have you even seen me eat?"

"Twice, yes.  Both of the times it was pizza."

"Yeah, well, I can eat a whole  _box_ of pizza.  This is, like, a light meal for me.  A snack.  A munchie.  A--"

He held up a hand.  "Alaran.  I get it."

"Just making sure," I smirked, adding a playful wink to the end of my sentence to make his ears turn pink.  It did the trick.  "So, what the heck do you do for a living, Solas?  I see you in fancy suits all the time, and you act like somebody who's important, but I've never had enough context clues to help me discern what your job it."  I gasped and leaned forward.  "Do you work for a vague and menacing government agency?"

"If by that, do you mean I work as a researcher at Inquisition Laboratory?  If so, then yes."

"A researcher, huh?  At the I.L., no less.  Impressive.  Do you get to wear a lab coat a lot?"

"Not much, anymore.  Mostly my day consists of business meetings and paperwork."

I sighed wistfully.  "It must be hard, getting promotions.  You get a pay raise and bonuses, but Maker, at what cost?"

Solas gave me a flat stare as an answer.

-

I awoke screaming.

The door to my bedroom burst open and Varric rushed in.  "Al!  Al, what's the matter?" he asked fervently.  I curled up into a ball, rocking back and forth and clutching my hand.  Tears sprang to my eyes and rolled down my cheeks as a low wail burned up through my chest.  I let him pull me into his embrace.

"Varric, it  _hurts so bad,"_ I whimpered.  I couldn't bother to be strong.  "I just want it gone.  Cut it off.  Cut it off  _cut it off cut it off--"_ _  
_

Another spasm of pain racketed all the way up to my shoulder.  I convulsed and choked out a cry.  Varric could only hold me closer to him.  "Alright, I'm taking you to the hospital," he stated.  "Something is definitely wrong."

I shook my head.  "No.  Just...just get Anders.  Please.   _Please,_ Varric, don't make me go to the hospital.  Please."

There was a pause.  "...Alright.  I'll call Blondie.  Come on, let's get you out of your bed."  Varric eased me out from under my twisted blankets and tucked one arm under the crook of my knees while supporting the rest of my body with the other.  I was taller than him, but he was still stronger by far than I was.  He carried me into the living room and gently set me down on the couch, then pulled one of the nearby throw blankets over me so I wasn't shaking as much.  After pressing a kiss to my head Varric stepped into the kitchen and got a hold of Anders.  I was barely aware of the conversation and I couldn't hear what Anders was saying on the other end, but I caught bits of, "it's bad" and "don't know what to do" and "get over here now" and stuff like that.  My entire skull was throbbing loudly, sending waves of pain that hit the opposing waves of whatever was going on in my hand and colliding together to make one giant ball of agony.  

Varric let me rest my head on his lap when he sat down and told me nonsensical stories that I drank in thirstily, if just to distract me in some way.  His hand constantly was pressing itself against my forehead and my cheeks, but he said nothing.  Bright purple and green spots had begun bursting in my vision when Anders finally knocked on the door and stepped in.  I slowly turned my head to see that Hawke had accompanied him, dressed in his worn leather jacket and a plain white t-shirt.  Anders had thrown on a pair of black sweats and a sweater that said  _Mage Rights are Right!_ on the front.  His hair had been pulled back in a man-bun, and I  _so_ wanted to say something condescending about it, but my throat had closed shut and my chest constricted.  Oh, gosh, it had moved to my chest.  Everything had turned to molten lava.  

I groaned through my teeth and curled up tighter.  "Hey, Alaran," Anders said softly and gently as he put a cooling, magically-powered hand to my forehead.  I sighed as some relief was applied and the pain lessened marginally.  "Maker, she's burning up," he muttered to Varric.  "I'll try to get the fever down, but if not, then she really does need to go to the hospital."

"Okay."

My blanket was laid out on the floor and I was settled on top of it.  Anders knelt beside me, closing his eyes briefly and gathering his mana.  "Hawke," he said, "I'm going to need your assistance."

Garret took off his leather jacket before kneeling on the opposite side of me.  "This isn't legal," Anders continued to say.  "And if anybody ever finds out we'll both be sent to prison for some time.  Are you okay with that?" he asked Hawke, who gave a firm nod in response.

"If it means she doesn't have to go to the hospital, then yes."

 ** _"Don't make me go to the hospital.  Please, no, don't make me go.  I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.  I'll do anything if it means I don't have to go."_** I started to move, to try and get away, but Anders kept me down.  

"Sh.  It'll be okay," he said soothingly.  "She's starting to hallucinate.  I've never heard her speak elven, before.  It's... _shit,_ Varric, what happened to her  _hand?"_

"What do you mean?"

"It's broken!  It's damn near shattered!"

_"What?"_

My eyes rolled in the back of my head and I was consumed by swirling green and purple colors.  

-

"Vas?  Vas is dis?" I whispered to myself as I felt a snap in the air, in reality.  I rolled up from my simple cot I had placed in the abandoned warehouse I had taken up residency at and walked over to the broken window nearby that showed almost the entirety of Haven.  The barely real lights began to flicker and go out, and I felt the almost-minds of everybody who resided there go out as well, except for the scattered pinpoints where minds of the Inner Circle still existed.  That was good.  They weren't going out, despite the fact that everything else was. And from what I could tell, they were all asleep, oblivious to what was going on around them.  Wait.  No.  Not all of them were asleep, and they were scared, but for a different reason.  Anders, Hawke, Varric, and...

Alaran.

Something was wrong.

My hands braced themselves on the windowsill and I leaned forward, peering into the center of Haven, where the activity was going on.  Of course.  Of  _course_ she would be in the center.  But damn, did the power of the Orb hide her presence well, making it look like she was just another almost-person instead of  _The_ Person.  And boy oh boy, was there a battle raging inside her.  It wasn't even going to be the big fight, too.  The boss battle.  The endgame.  The Bowser's Castle.   _  
_

"Hang in there, Al," I whispered.  "You got this.  You got this.  I promise you, you got this.  I wish I could help more."

But I  _could_ help somewhat.  Maybe that would be enough to push her forward and bring everything back.  

I sucked in a steady breath and found the strings of the smaller sources of power the Orb was pumping into this reality.  I wrapped my own invisible energy around the strings and pulled, light enough so as not to snap anything and cause mass destruction, but firmly enough that it could relieve some of the pressure it was putting on Alaran.  "Come on," I groaned when I felt restraint, "don't be like that.  You know me.  It's Hallah, remember?  The amazing potato that helped  _create_ you?  The one that gave you to Solas as a gift so he could help me create a protected dreamer pendant for a certain Wolf-Brother?"  The restraint weakened and I continued to pull.  "That's right, who's a good Orb?  You are!  You're a good Orb!"

The threat had been diverted after another minute of tugging and flattering, and I witnessed the lights all come back on and reality turn back to its semi-stable state, desperately trying to hide its contradictions and its falseness.  Al would be okay, for now.

In the meanwhile, I could continue to plan my grand entrance when it came time to finally reveal myself.  What immortal  _didn't_ have a flair for the dramatic?

-

Dorian's store seemed...empty, despite the fact that it was actually crowded with people who were buying clothes from his special line of Halloween outfits.  Solas soon found the answer.  There was no white-haired elf flitting through the store dressed in slim black clothes, giving helpful smiles to all the customers and offering honest advice as to whether or not something would look good on them, including Solas.  

Still, he met with Dorian in the back as usual.  The Tevinter looked up from the tome he was reading and glanced at Solas before continuing darting his eyes across the pages.  "She's not here.  Varric called in sick for her."

He took off his dark winter coat and placed it on the back of a chair before taking a seat.  "Varric called in for her?  That does not sound like Alaran."

"No, no it does not," Dorian sighed, placing a ribbon in the book before closing it.  "Alaran has only called in sick once, and that was when she had a bout of the bone coughs.  So for her not only to be too sick to work, but be so sick that Varric had to call in sick for her means that she's not in the best shape.  I wouldn't worry about her, though.  She can take care of herself, and Varric usually steps up when he needs to."

"Did she have to go to the hospital?" Solas asked.  Dorian shrugged.

"No idea.  But Maker, I hope not."

Solas would have been more concerned, had it not been for the fact that he and Dorian had important things to discuss.  One of them was Alaran.  He had hoped she would be here so she could listen and give her input, but they could do without.

It was only after, when they had concluded business, did Dorian throw his hands exasperatedly in the air and stand.  "Oh,  _alright,_ we'll go over to their place and see how she is.  Come, now, don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about.  You've been clenching your jaw and creasing those lovely eyebrows of yours together, and you've been checking your phone to see if she's texted you."

"I do not have her--"

"No, you don't have her number, which makes it all the more pitiful."  Dorian reached over and grabbed an over-sized brown mad bomber hat lined with fennec fur and tossed it at Solas.  He looked down at it with confusion.

"Do you expect me to wear this?" Solas frowned.  

"Yes."

 _"Why?_ It's atrocious."

"That's the point.  It is one of the most hideous things I've ever come across, but for some reason Alaran let it get admitted into the thrift store.  You know what that means?  It means she loves it, for whatever insane reason.  And you're going to wear it so she can see you look absolutely ridiculous and make her feel happy."

Solas looked woefully down at it.  With a loud sigh and regret roaring in him, he donned the cap.

Dorian barked a laugh and before Solas could do anything he took a picture.  "This is  _so_ going on Instagram."

-

"This isn't fair," I grumbled as I lay curled up on the couch, tucked against the arm rest.  Hawke and Anders were playing zombies on the television and with my arm in a sling I couldn't join in.  "You guys are going to die without me.  Like, you're going to die right now."

"Shut up shut up," Anders sang.  

"Yeah, Al, we got--" Hawke started, then they were both attacked and killed by the undead.  Anders raised his controller in the air as if he was going to throw it on the ground, but at the last moment let his hand drop.  Hawke pretended to rage-flip the coffee table.  

Varric had reluctantly gone to work, but enlisted the two dimwitted babysitters to take care of me.  And by take care of, I mean that they let me lie in a puddle of misery while they wrecked the sanctity of my video games and forced me to watch.  Well... _forced_ wasn't exactly right.  I could have read or done homework, but I thought it be better to criticize and comment on their horrible gaming skills.  That was much more fun.  

"Alright, well, since we have this lovely break," Anders said, turning to me and waving his hand over my damaged arm.  "Let's give you another does of kitten-fueled magic."

"Your obsession with cats is disturbing," I commented.  "Totally justified, but disturbing nonetheless."

"Yes, well, at least I'm not--"

There was a ring on the buzzer to the apartment.   _"Darling, it's Dorian and Solas, come to grace you with our presence."_

Hawke leaped up and skipped over to press the button, and responded in a falsetto voice,  _"What's the password?"_

There was a very Dorian-like sigh.   _"Hawke.  Let us in."_

 _"Not until you say the password!"_ Hawke continued.  Anders and I were stifling laughs.  Was he going to say it?

_"...I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world."_

Hawke fist-pumped and rang the buzzer for the door to be opened.  Anders supplied me with some healing magic, and I grimaced as I felt my bones knit slowly together.  "Ouchie."

"Oh, don't be a baby," Anders shushed.  His hand moved above my chest and head and I squirmed in discomfort.  "Honestly, girl.  You'd think that you'd be tougher, with the whole show you put on."

"Yeah, that's the thing.  It's a  _show._ Behind the scenes, though, I'm a pain in the butt."

Soon after I had spoken those words there was a knock on the door and Dorian stepped in with a bouquet of roses, and Solas followed with a box of pizza.  He wore his typical business attire, but sitting on top of his head was the totally amazing mad bomber hat I had found lying in the bottom of somebody's garbage bag they had stuffed full of clothes and given to the store.  He looked thoroughly uncomfortable, and I knew that underneath his ears were a hot pink, but to me it was utterly adorable.   _Snapshot._

"Oh.  My.  Gosh," I beamed, gaping at the hat.  "I freaking love it.  I  _freaking love it!"_

He averted his seemingly glowing eyes momentarily, but his lips quirked upwards.  "Yes, well, Dorian thought that it would be a good idea to come wearing it."

I turned my attention to Solas' counterpart.  "For once in his life, he thought correctly."

"You know, I could set these roses on fire because of that," Dorian said airily as he searched for a vase to put them in.  "And it was  _also_ my idea to get you the pizza.  Solas was just kind enough to carry it in."

I held out my undamaged hand.  "Gimme gimme gimme.  I'm  _starving._ Hawke and Anders haven't fed me properly like Varric told them to do."

"You never  _told_ us you were hungry," Hawke argued as he took up his spot on the couch.  Solas set the box on the coffee table and opened it.  I breathed in the delicious smell and grinned, then reached over to grab a slice.  

"So, darling, tell us what happened," Dorian said, easing himself on the other end.  Solas stood there awkwardly for a moment before moving to do the same.  Every time I saw the mad bomber had on him, I had to widely grin.  "Did Sera get you into trouble?  Is that why your arm is broken?"

"Shattered," Anders corrected as he reached for the video game controller.  

"No," I responded.  "I'm...not sure  _what_ happened, exactly."

"I'm betting it had something to do with the Fade," Hawke said as he prepared to fight another round of zombies.  "Something in there turned your arm and hand into little tiny pieces."

"Unless she was in the Fade physically, that should not have been possible," Solas said factually.

"Your hand.  Shattered."  Dorian repeated one moment.  The very next he had pushed Anders out of the way, who gave a loud noise of complaint, and let his hands hover above my sling eagerly.  "May I?"

I rolled my eyes.  "Go for it, nerd.  Just go easy on me."

"Be  _careful,"_ Anders reminded.  "It took me forever to break her fever and heal whatever it was that was trying to deteriorate her chest and head.  The last thing I need is for you to go and ruin the arm I'm trying to finish up."

"Hey, Al, I didn't know you spoke elven," Hawke said, drawing his black brows together as they started a new round.  

"Uh, I'm an elf, Hawke.  That's pretty self-explanatory."

"Still.  Made me wonder what other things you can say."

"I guess the world will never know.  Ow!:"

"Sorry, sorry," Dorian said.  "But this is...Solas come here and just  _look_ at what happened!"

I leaned back tiredly against the couch as the elf still wearing the mad bomber hat came to examine my severely bruised arm and hand, which only darkened around the scar on my palm.  I felt their mana poke and prod at what had gone on.  "Interesting," Solas mused over the sounds of gunfire and zombie screams.  "The shattering of her bones is not random.  It is..."

"Patterned?  Yes, exactly what I thought.  And over here, up in her chest and head..."  Both of them impeded in and my back arched as I cried out in surprise and pain.  

"Hey?!  What did I  _just_ say?!" Anders demanded as he paused the game.  I drew in ragged breaths as everything threatened to become unraveled inside me once more.  The slice of pizza I had just eaten started to rise in the back of my throat, but if it did throw up Dorian would be in the direct line of fire, so that wouldn't be so bad.  

 "I didn't realize she was that tender!" Dorian said back.

"You...assholes..." I whispered before the pain swept me away into darkness.

-

"...Well, wasn't that dramatic," Dorian huffed as I became conscious once more.  

"I learned from the best," I responded, then tried to reach out with my free hand to grab the glass of water that had a straw in it.  I scrunched up my eyebrows when I found that it wasn't working too well.  Anders saw what I wanted and took it to place it to my mouth.  I glared at him but put the straw between my lips and drew in water.

"It is quite concerning that what has happened to you is something unknown," Solas said.  He had taken off the cap, which now lie next to the pizza box.  "Everything is connected, but as to how and what, I am not certain."

"Yeah, well, none of us are, my friend," Anders said dryly.  "But could you  _try_ not to make Alaran pass out again?"

"Agreed," I said after I swallowed.  "That's not a pleasant thing to experience.  And who the  _freak_ ate my pizza?" _  
_

"I was under duress!" Hawke objected loudly.  "And if you had died then who would have eaten it for you?"

"I'm going to rip off your beard with a waxing strip," I growled.

"Your specificness slightly terrifies me."

I sniffed.  "Good."  My mouth made an _O_ as I remembered what I was going to ask Dorian and Solas before they drove their stupid magic into me.  "Oh!  Are you guys coming to the Halloween party tomorrow?"  After some convincing, I assured Varric that I would be well enough to attend the Halloween party he was throwing at a venue downtown, which was the place all the cool people came to show off their costumes and have a good time.  I would just have my arm in a sling with what I was wearing.  But I knew that if for one second I didn't think I could make it through all the way, Varric would shut down the party just so he could see that I got into my bed safely.  Ugh.  His love for me was incorrigible.

"Of course!" Dorian exclaimed.  "Darling, I'm a necromancer!  I'm the  _death_ of the party!"  He threw his head back and heartily laughed at his dumb joke while the rest of us stared flatly at him.  He never laughed at most of my funnies.  Why shouldn't I return the favor?

"Solas?  How about you?  Are you coming to live a little?" I asked with a raised, weary eyebrow.

"And come dressed as what?" he questioned back in a slightly playful manner.  "I have not celebrated Halloween for years."

"Your best friend is a gay man with an impeccable taste in fashion.  I'm sure he'll hook you up," I chuckled.

"And there'll be food there, too, so you won't be puking in Al's toilet when the night isn't even half over, either," Hawke added with a kind of lightheartedness that was unusual for him, then furiously pressed down on one of the buttons on his controller to shoot a zombie.  "Anders!  Back me up, would ya?"  Yes.  What good babysitters I had.  

Solas' ears turned pink.  "Thank you for mentioning that, Hawke," he said politely.  

"Okay, am I the only one who is freaked out by your shower curtain?" Anders said aloud.  "Who in their right mind would combine sloths and Princess Leia together?"

"The best people," I replied.  "And what time is it?  Varric said he'd be home early."

"It sounds like you want to get rid of us, Al," Hawke said.  "Please tell me it's not what it sounds like."

"That's exactly what it sounds like.  You ate my  _pizza,_ Hawke."

"Dorian had a piece, too!"

I swiveled my head back to the Tevinter mage, glowering.  "Darling, I got you  _roses._ You honestly can't be mad at me."

I was silent for a few moments.  "...No."

"See?  Now, what are you going to be for Halloween tomorrow?  It will have to pass my exam, you know, so might as well start spilling details now, in case I revoke whatever it may be."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and get in a short Halloween chapter in tomorrow, but if I'm a little late, please forgive me, vhenans.
> 
> You know what you should all be for Halloween? Lovely.


	8. Halloweeners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Halloween Halloween Halloween

Safe to say, big parties weren't my thing.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I love seeing my friends and hanging out with them, but any crowd over a dozen gave me anxiety.  I always hid it well and forced myself to interact, but if I had a choice I would sit in the corner and play with the household pet, if there was one.  But, seeing as we were at a venue and there were no pets (unless Anders somehow sneaked one of his cats in) I was stuck, unable to even dance because of how my arm had turned into a thousand-piece puzzle the other day.  Varric and Hawke had long left my side.  Individually they were already the life of the party, but together they were a gravitational pull.  

The room itself was a beautiful place, decorated by the one and only Madame de Fer.  The lights were dim and cast orange and yellows glows, and intricate, magically enhanced cobwebs and spiders hung from the tall ceiling and the railing of the stairs that went to the second level balcony.  Varric had a limited license to use magic at the party, so of course there were floating candles drifting about the air.  Around the dance floor (because of course there had to be a dance floor) and up on the balcony there were tables covered by thick black cloth with small carved pumpkins as the centerpieces.  There wasn't any real food, but there  _was_ some delicious pastries and sweets provided by  _Lace's Bakery Shoppe,_ and some punch that I didn't dare drink because I swore I saw Isabela pouring something into the blood red juice.  The DJ was set up in the front of the room at the head of the dance floor.  Maryden was her name...?  Pretty sure.  She had some sick beats and a good taste in dance music.  

As usual, I found myself sitting at one of the back tables, picking at a delicious cinnamon roll and observing all the interesting costumes people had wore to the party.  Varric, Hawke, and Isabela had dressed up together as swashbuckling pirates.  They had all tried to get me to join them in costume, but I didn't really want to be looking like a...a slut...put frankly.  I could never pull it off as well as Isabela, anyhow.  I mean, more power to the women who could and wanted to, but for me?  Even though I was pretty confident in my body, it was more  _slender and slim_ rather than _sultry and sexy._   Anders came dressed as a hipster, wearing over-sized glasses without any lenses in them, a fake mustache strikingly similar to Dorian's, flannel, and extremely tight denim jeans that I still wondered how he got on all by himself.  Merrill was a fairy and she absolutely fit the role, with her giant fake wings and her slim, flowy dress.  Vivienne had come as Maleficent, except an extremely sexy and black Maleficent.  For some reason she could pull of the horns.  Don't ask me why, but she could.  And as she was already a mage, she could carry around her staff with a small flame crackling on top of it.  Cassandra was stuck with Josephine, who was a cute little kitty cat and had a painted button nose and whiskers on her dark skin and matching ears.  Cassandra was her grumpy bunny rabbit counterpart, with cute white ears and even a clip-on puffed tail on the back of her jeans.  Sera was dancing wildly with a bunch of ladies as Harley Quinn, her face paint done courtesy of me.  Iron Bull and Lace had done their cute couple thing, where he was dressed as a football player and she as his cheerleader.  Then  _those_ two brought their entire staff, who were dressed as football players as well, even the two girls, Dalish and Skinner.

Dorian showed up with Solas fashionably late, of course.  I covered my mouth when I saw the two make their way over to me to hide my grin.  Dorian had come as a steampunk mage, complete with a top hat and a suit coat and a cane that I knew was actually his staff shrunk down.  Goggles rested on the rim of his hat, and he even had a pocket watch tucked into his vest.  He looked amazing, as usual.

And Solas...he was...erm...

He was mother effing Sherlock Holmes:  Bald Egg Version.

"Well don't you two look absolutely spiffy," I said when they came within earshot.  Dorian huffed at my costume.  

"I  _told_ you that was an absolutely horrible costume choice," he immediately began, gesturing to my mask and my slim black outfit.  Solas tilted his head.  

"You are Kaneki Ken?" he questioned.  I grinned and donned the mask, one of my eyes getting covered.  An amused smile flashed across Solas' face before settling once more into calmness.  

"I figured it was either this or Black Cat, but I like  _Tokyo Ghoul_ a lot more," I shrugged, my voice slightly distorted by what was covering it.  "I have the white hair for it, and look!"  I held up my one good arm.  "I even painted my nails black!"

Dorian sighed and shook his head.  "Of course you couldn't go for something more practical.  At least the suit is not...completely horrendous.  It reveals nothing yet everything all at once."

"A metaphor for my life.  But thanks, you guys, for coming," I smiled.  They could at least see one eye crinkle.  

"Are you choosing to be antisocial tonight, out of all nights?" Dorian said as he and Solas took a seat in the empty chairs around me.  

"I have a broken arm, Dorian.  Remember?  I can't even get my groove on.  A part of me just wants to--"

"If you say 'play video games and watch Netflix,' then I'm going to kill you and conjure you back from the dead.  The only reason I would do the second half is because I need you back at work on Monday."

I rolled my visible eye.  "Whatever.  You two go and dance or something, and let me sit in the back and be creepy."

"Apparently, Solas  _doesn't dance,"_ Dorian grumbled as he stood back up.  "Who could have possibly foreseen that?  Not I, of course!"

"Dorian, honey, you're making a scene," I deadpanned.

"Alaran, sweetie, I  _am_ the scene."  With the swish of his coattail, Dorian was off heading to the dance floor to join up with Isabela and Hawke and Merrill, leaving just Solas and me.  

"So the elusive, mystical Solas watches anime, huh?" I drawled.  "And you even own a Sherlock Holmes hat.   _Fascinating."_  I would have folded my arms and leaned back, but I couldn't exactly do that with my slung-up arm and all.  His lips quirked upwards.

"I do many things, Mistress Lavellan."  He saw me roll an eye.

"Hey, since you're Sherlock Holmes, where's your Watson?  Why couldn't you get Dorian to dress up as him?  You two are basically a couple!"  I gasped.  "Is it because he wouldn't  _shave_ for you?  You know, because he has a mustache...and Watson had a mustache...and you're Sherlock, and...and putting it on a t-shirt..." I trailed off, consumed with how funny I was and unable to continue because of the throaty giggles I was making.  

Solas clenched his jaw, but it looked as if he was only doing so to refrain from smiling.  He redirected the topic.

 "How is your arm, if I may ask?"

"Oh, it's not so bad," I shrugged.  "Anders is a really good healer.  I should be able to use it by some time next week, thankfully."

"And your chest and head?  Have they been remedied?"

He didn't see how my smirk slipped into a grimace.  "Somewhat.  The pains come and go, whatever that pain is.  It's random, so I never know when it might happen.  But so far, it's only been a nuisance and nothing as bad as the other night."

After my last sentence, we were both silent.   _Then_ things started to get real awkward, real fast.  We both looked around at the decorations and avoiding each other's gazes.  I didn't know  _why_ it was that way--usually I could come up with something witty and riling, but I was fresh out of sass.  So I placed my good hand on the table and began tapping it to a fast beat.   _Tap-tap-tap-tap.  Tap-tap-tap-tap._

Solas looked up from the invisible stain on his pants in surprise.  A glint appeared in his gray-blue eyes and he, too, placed his hand on the black-clad surface, responding to me in the same fashion.  He didn't see the stupid grin I got on my face.  I was just about to crow  _"Doooo weeee ooooo!"_ when a pirate came up from behind me and shoved a sweaty hat onto my head.  Hawke pulled up a chair beside me, sighing in relaxation as he gave his feet a rest.  "Ew!  Hawke, your hat is  _disgusting,"_ I complained, quickly taking off the accessory before his secreted fluids could seep into my hair.  "Aren't you supposed to be pillaging some village, not a table occupied by a high-functioning sociopath and a badass?"  

"I'm taking a break!  Isabela's hips can take  _quite_ the toll on any fellow," Hawke grinned.  "And Solas!  How good to see you!  Why aren't you with Dorian out on the dance floor?"  There was  _something_ about his voice that I couldn't quite place...

"Again, Hawke, Dorian and I are not in a relationship," Solas quipped back coolly.  Then there was the definite ass in  _his_ voice.

 _"Psh!_ That's no excuse not to get out there!"  Hawke pretended to be affronted.  "Why, Solas--you're not one of those people who don't  _like_ dancing, do you?"

"He's keeping me company," I interjected.  I exaggeratedly gestured to my slung-up arm.  "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly in the most tip-top shape to be bouncing up and down on my feet.  Besides, high-functioning sociopaths and badasses don't need to dance to be cool."

Hawke grabbed his pirate hat and put it back on his head.  "Fair enough, matey," he said gruffly.  I swatted him on the chest.  

"Now, go out there and burn things, like the swashbuckling pirate you are."  

He slammed his hands energetically down on the table, yelling, "Light it up!"  The force of his impact sent the pumpkin centerpiece rolling onto its side.  Solas shot a hand out to set it upright before the candle inside could do any damage.  Hawke jogged back into the center of the swarm of pulsing, hot, sweaty bodies, taking his hat and throwing it up into the air for some random person to catch it.  I shook my head and chuckled softly.  

"Sorry about him."  I took off my mask and sucked in some fresh air while Solas directed his attention down to his phone.  "Man, who knew that masks are--"

"My superior wishes to speak with you," Solas interrupted in a low voice.  I stopped, my mouth still hanging open.  He looked up to me and tucked his phone back into the inner pocket of his black wool coat.   _"Ir abelas, lethallan._ I did not expect for her to make such a request, tonight of all nights."

"Is she here?" I asked.  

"She awaits for us outside, in the back of the courtyard."  Solas stood and straightened his scarf.  Yes.  He was even wearing the scarf.  And the purple shirt of sexiness.

I did not just think that.  Nope.

"Well, that's really unoriginal," I muttered, and made a split-second decision to put my mask back on.  "Might as well give her the full Halloween experience, since she wants to meet us at such a convenient time.  Freaking hell, Solas, am I really going to meet somebody really important looking like Kaneki Ken?"

Solas let a snort slip.  "So it seems.  But, if it is of any consolation, I am not in a much better situation."

Together we headed quietly out the back doors and into the cold night air.  I followed Solas through the courtyard, which had illuminated by the large windows from the building where the party was inside.  But once we walked past the fountain--which had been stopped from spouting out water--we were quickly plunged into darkness.   _Varric, please don't freak out if you notice I'm gone.  My chances of dying is only slightly more than usual.  Love, Al,_ I thought to myself, hoping that in some way he would hear it.  We shouldn't be gone for long...hopefully.

"You know," I had to say, "this is just like the beginning of any suspense or horror film.  We get a text, we think we're meeting somebody, but in all actuality we're going to get murdered.  I bet five silvers that you'll be the one to scream like a girl and trip me so you can run."

"Please, do bet," Solas said, his eyes flickering around the hidden scenery around us.  "Because you will lose, and I shall have earned the money."

"If I die, tell Varric that my Satinalia gift for him is already in the top shelf of my closet."  

"You've shopped already?  This early?"

"Hey, don't use that tone with me, ser.  I found it on sale.  I couldn't just  _not_ buy it.  But what, oh great Sherlock Holmes, have you deduced about me thus far?  Or do you just see a bunch of question marks when you try to pick at me?  'Cause that makes total sense.  I like confusing you."

"Oh?  And is that all you like doing to me?"  I could hear the sassery in his voice, even if I couldn't see his face.  

"No.  I like making your ears turn red.  I like making you stutter and clench your jaw.  I also like--oh shit!"

I tripped over a broken branch and stumbled forward, twisting so I wouldn't fall on my injured arm.  I never fell, though, because Solas swiftly caught me.  Except, it wasn't a dashing kind of save where he had me dipped in his arms.  He had quickly and awkwardly wrapped one of his arms around my waist while the other hand placed itself on my chest to steady me while not hurting my injury any more than it already was.  I felt heat rise in my cheeks and up the back of my neck.

"Solas," I said softly as we both froze.  "Could you...you know, get your hand off my boob?"

"I--ah--yes.  Yes.   _Ir abelas,_ Alaran, I did not mean to..." Solas sputtered as he quickly removed his hand and leveled me upright.  I adjusted my mask, which had slipped, and was glad for the extra concealment.  I could still feel where his palm and fingers had imprinted themselves onto my flesh.  And oh dear Maker he had probably felt that I was nipping, too, because I had only worn a sports bra underneath and we all know sports bras don't offer any protection.  

"Let's not ever talk about that again, shall we?" I said as brusquely as I could and not seem flustered or affected by the fact that he had accidentally copped a feel.  Solas straightened his askew hat and gave a quick nod.

"Agreed."

We walked the rest of the way in silence up until Solas veered suddenly into an enclosure of shadowy trees, then came to a halt.  "She should be here," he said, his lilting voice bringing warmth to the cold air around us.  

"And so she is," said a female voice, heavy with an Orlesian accent and filling the empty space.  Solas took out a small black baton and infused it with a faint burst of magic.  It grew until it was a full-length black staff.  He lit the top with green veilfire, which cast an eerie glow to the area.  

An elven woman stood in front of us, her hair pulled back into a plain bun and wearing a long-sleeved green dress that reached the floor.  A silver, intricate mask sat on the bridge of her nose and encompassed her cheekbones and the bottom half of her forehead.  "Good evening, Mistress Lavellan," she spoke, and held out a hand for me to shake.  "I am Briala.  I apologize for the inconvenience; the meeting was not originally intended to be planned like this, if you are wondering.  You were not the only one whisked away from a party, as you can see.  But I fear that the near future is about to become very dangerous for all of us.  If we met any later, we could have been caught."

"And now?  Are you so sure that there aren't any unwanted presences nearby?" I asked.  Briala smirked, but it didn't meet her eyes.  

"No.  But being a hundred percent positive means that I am a fool, and I am not fit to lead this revolution."

"You are no fool, though," I said.  There.  The smirk finally met her eyes.

"No."

I straightened my shoulders and met her with one violet eye.  Yes.  I was speaking to the leader of the elven rebellion looking like Kaneki Ken.  Go me.  "What do I need to do."

-

"Are you well?" Solas questioned as we neared the building where the party still raged.  I slowed to a stop and sat down on the flat stone rim of the fountain as I took off my mask.  

"Yeah, I'm fine.  My chest just hurts a bit, that's all."  I gently dug two fingers right under my chest cavity.  "It feels like acid reflux, but also like a lightning storm, but also like a fat darkspawn broodmother sitting right here."  I grimaced once and then let my hand drop.

"A broodmother?  Have you ever had the opportunity of meeting one?"

"Oh, yes, I love going into the Deep Roads and eating human flesh with them.  Lovely company," I snorted.  Solas chuckled and he took a seat beside me.  I gave him a sidelong look.  "Where's your pipe?   _Please_ tell me you have a pipe."

He produced an old wooden pipe with a poorly concealed smile.  I tossed my head back and laughed, the crisp air making it seem louder than it actually was.  "So has this Halloween treated you well?" I asked.  Solas bit down on the end of the pipe, looking utterly ridiculous and amazing.  

"...It has not been bad, no."

"But has it been  _good?"_

Solas turned his head to the ongoing party, then to me.  The lights from the party illuminated his eyes.  "Yes," he answered.  "It has been good."

I fist-pumped, but my face immediately became crestfallen when I heard a good song start being played on the inside.  "Aww," I moaned woefully, gazing in through the windows that made their way from the ground up to the second level, revealing everything that was happening indoors.  "I wish I could go and dance."

"Are you a good dancer?"

"Ha!  Nope.  I'm quite terrible.  But that's what makes dancing fun, right?" I swung my head back over to Solas with a small smile.  "The best kind of people are the ones who are uncaring of what others think of them."

"And are you one of those people?"

I shrugged.  "Maybe.  Maybe not.  I would hope so."  I made a noise as I stood back on my feet.  "But come on.  I'm freezing.  I wasn't really expecting to have secret meetings outside tonight."

"I suppose that is poor planning, on your part."

"Ass," I laughed.  Solas looked down at his feet and laughed as well.  He opened the door for me, and I was hit with the furnace-like temperatures of the party and the over amplified music.  Just as we had taken up our original seats the lights dimmed and a slow song started to play.  Couples intertwined their fingers between the other's.  Iron Bull had picked up Lace and was holding her several feet in the air so her head could rest on his shoulder.  The ones who didn't have significant others to dance with quickly asked those around them before all the pickings were gone.  

About ten seconds in, my heart clenched with panic and hope when Solas began to say, "Would you by chance--"

He was cut off by another.  "Hey, Al," Varric called over near the edge of the dance floor.  He waved a hand for me to come over.  I gave Solas an apologetic smile.  He nodded in understanding, looking relieved more than anything.  That disconcerted me.  Had he just asked me because he felt obligated to?  

Varric put one hand on my waist, on the side where my broken arm was, and clasped the other around my hand.  It was weird, dancing with only one arm, but I supposed I could get used to it.  He smiled warmly up at me.  "I'm sorry you didn't get to dance, tonight.  I know it's your favorite thing to do."

"Ah, don't worry about it," I replied honestly.  "I still had fun.  People-watching is very entertaining, did you know that?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, "I did.  And tonight would be the best night to do it, too.  But are you sure you're not, you know...disappointed or anything?  I'm sorry I didn't spend more time with you--"

"Varric, hush," I smirked.  "I'm perfectly fine.  I promise.  This was fun.  I still got to dress up as who I wanted to be, I ate a bunch of decadent sweets, and I managed to stay away from the spiked punch."   _Also, I made a deal with the head of the elven rebellion, Solas got to grope me, and something is up with Hawke that I can't figure out._ "But I still think you should have dressed up as the eighth dwarf from Snow White."

"Al, there isn't an eighth dwarf."

"Not in the Disney version, because he wasn't kid appropriate," I said, knowingly raising an eyebrow.  "But I think the world needs to know about Sexy."

Varric rolled his eyes, but seemed to actually consider it.  "Maybe for next Halloween, yeah?  What do you think I should wear?"

I bit my lip in thought.  "Hmm.  Definitely the red handkerchief around your neck--"

"Ooh.  Good start, good start."

"And maybe a white shirt unbuttoned all the way?"

"You think everybody can handle the chest hair?"

"No; there may be Ark of the Covenant-like reactions, but the strong will survive.  Then to top it all off you can wear one of those stocking caps that all the dwarves in the movie wore so people won't think you're just a short cowboy stripper or something."

"Of course!"  We both broke down into laughter as our feet rocked us back and forth.  Varric gazed at me fondly.  "You know, Al, you're probably one of the best things that's ever happened to me.  I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't shown up in my life."

"You'd probably having parties like these every night and trying to fill a hole in your life that you didn't know existed," I replied with a smirk, but there was love in my eyes.

"You're most likely right, like you usually are," Varric grumbled as he simultaneously sighed.

"And you know, Varric, that you're one of the best things that's ever happened to me," I said sincerely, my smirk turning into a small smile.  "You've given me a life I never could have imagined I'd have.  But most of all, you've given me a place to be loved.  You've given me a place where I can be me without fearing my own personality, when you would have been fully justified not to."

"Al, stop," Varric said softly.  "You can't make me get all emotional and shit in front of everybody."

"Okay," I whispered, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, tasting the sharp, salty sweat produced by getting down.  I glanced over at Cassandra, who was leaning up against one of the tables, trying to appear nonchalant and uncaring but was actually let down that nobody had asked her to dance, yet.  Varric followed my gaze.  He stifled a sigh.  

"Oh, alright," he muttered, but was only acting like he was reluctant.  My smirk returned, and we let go so I could return to the table, avoiding gazes so nobody I didn't know would ask me to dance.  When I didn't see Solas seated where he previously was, pushed my lips to the side and hid my disappointment.  I grabbed my mask and my red coat and shot Varric a text message saying that I was headed home.

I walked through the dark parking lot, thinking about how cold it was going to be in my car, when a pebble scraped against the pavement behind me and a hand put itself on my shoulder.

I spun around without thinking and punched the attacker square in the face with my good arm before they could detain me.  Oh, they thought I was a weak target with my injured arm, huh?  Well, sorry, sucker, not gonna...

 _"Solas?"_ I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth in shock.  He groaned as he lay sprawled out on the ground, clutching his nose.  His hat had been knocked off and lie a few feet away.  I crouched next to him.  "What the freak, man?  Who in their right mind would sneak up on a person like that?   _In the dark?  On Halloween?_ Are you okay?  Do I need to go get Anders?"

"No, no," Solas said thickly.  "I can take care of myself."  A soft light emanated from his hand, and after a few moments he dropped it.  He propped himself up and took his hat that I was holding out to him.   _"Ma serannas."_

We both stood back up, the both of us thoroughly embarrassed and guilty.  "You're pretty sneaky," I admitted with a sheepish laugh.

"And...you are quite strong," Solas said back, looking down at his feet with a soft chuckle.  

"It's all Cassandra's fault, I swear."  I tilted my head.  "What did you want?" I asked kindly, curiously.  I was about to say,  _Come to feel me up, again?_ but even if I said that jokingly, it might have hurt Solas' feelings.  So I kept it inside, for once in my life.

"I...ah.   _A Nightmare Before Christmas_ is playing at the old movie theater in twenty minutes.  Seeing as you cannot dance, I thought I'd offer to take you somewhere else that you can enjoy your time."

I raised an involuntary eyebrow.  Was he...was he asking me out on a  _date?_

"Is this a date?"

Might as well get the answers now and not be angstily confused about it later.

For a moment, Solas looked as if he was about to act flustered and try to deny it.  But something overcame him, and he tilted his head at a slight angle and met my eyes.  "Yes.  And no.  It will be, only if you want it to be."  

I tilted my head in the opposite direction and raised my chin an inch, smirking.  "And if I say yes?"

"Then I will pay for the tickets."

I put on my mask and let blackness cover one eye.  Solas donned his Sherlock Holmes cap.  "Then it's a date."

We were walking to my car with me already humming songs from the movie we were about to see when I stopped and looked around.  "What is it?" he asked.  A larger smirk crawled on my face.  

"The Veil is thin tonight, isn't it?"

For some reason unbeknownst to us, we thought it was quite funny.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the time I've posted this Halloween will be over, but I DON'T CARE. Halloween should be a monthly event, if it were up to me. 
> 
> And what should be a daily event? All of you being lovely.


	9. The Importance of Contact Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alaran loses her smirk! Varric waxes off his chest hair! Solas grows hair! Dorian becomes polite and humorless! Isabela becomes a Chantry sister! Hawke denounces magic and becomes a templar! The world has gone maaaaaaad!
> 
> Lawlz, I'm kidding. I just couldn't really come up with an apt summary.

"You.  Did.  Not."

I slyly looked over the rim of the lidded cup I was currently putting to my lips.  "Yes.  Yes I did."  I then tipped the contents into my mouth and felt the hot, delicious hazelnut mocha run down my throat and warm my insides.

 _"That's_ where you went?  On some fockin date with the elfy elf?  The elfy elf who's, like, a thousand years older than you?"  Sera was gaping at me with wide, incredulous eyes.  

"Eleven, technically.  Mm, this stuff is  _so_ good.  You have to try it."

"Stop tryin' to get me off track!   _Eleven_ years?  What the fock, Ally?"

I shrugged, smirking.  "What can I say, I like my men like I like setting my goals:  long term, challenging, infuriating, mature, and can play the drums.  Seriously, even though I'm going to have a stomach ache later on from this, you have to try it."  I held out the Starbucks beverage to Sera, who snatched it out from my hand and took a swig.

"Yeah, yeah, it's delicious as shite."  Sera took another hearty gulp before sliding it back to me from across the cafe table we were sitting at.  "I seriously still can't believe you went on a date with  _him._ He doesn't even look fun!  And he has..." she leaned in close and conspiratorially whispered, "he has  _chincy_ eyes."

"What?  Is that even a thing?"

"That's not the point!  One moment you're griping to me that you fockin can't stand him, then the next you're shagging him in the movie theater when fockin Jack Skellington is singing!"

I mock-pouted.  "Oh, Sera, are you just mad that you didn't get to come along?  And  _no,_ we didn't shag--who even uses that word anymore, by the way--we just sat there in silence while Solas ate a huge bag of M&Ms and I ate one of those monster pickles they sell there.  Do you know how _good_ those are with buttered popcorn?  Like, you take a bite of a pickle and then you shove some popcorn in your mouth and you chew it all together--"

"That's fockin disgusting."

I snickered at the reaction I got and took another sip of my drink.  "Honestly, Sera, I don't know why you're having such a freak out over this.  You hooked up with Isabela--yeah, Anders told me all about it--and she's, like, thirty-six!  That's two years older than Solas is."

"But it's _different_ with women," Sera explained with infinite patience.  I rolled my eyes.  "And I only made out with her, not had some fockathon while the Boogie Man was capturing Santa Claus."

I made a face.  "Okay, you really are mad that you didn't watch  _A Nightmare Before Christmas,_ aren't you?"

"It's my favorite movie!" she exploded.  I raised my hands up in surrender.  

"Whoa, there!  Dude, we can just watch it on Netflix, sometime.  Deal?"

Sera settled back in her chair.  The two of us ignored the looks we were getting from other customers in the shop.  "Deal," she muttered.  "Now gimme another drink of that stuff."

"Have the rest of it.  I'm going to be sitting on a toilet for thirty minutes if I drink any more."

Instead of being grossed out, Sera giggled lowly in amusement.  "Fockin powerful stuff, yeah."  She took a swig.  "So what's the deal between the two of you, now?  You went on a date, you're coordinatin' a billion rebellions together, and you two get all geeky and nerdy and shite whenever you're within five feet of each other, now.  Gonna start poppin' out elfy babies next?"

"Okay, I think you're more obsessed with me having sex with Solas than either of us are," I said flatly.

"Oh, believe me, Ally, he's thinking about it  _all_ the time."

"You don't even like men!  How could you know?"

"'Cause I like women.  And lemme tell ya:  women are nice to think about.  Especially when you're bored.  Or when you're in the shower, and everythin' is all hot and steamy and there's that one lady you've had your eyes on--"

"Maker, please stop," I groaned, and checked the time as Sera laughed.  "Hey, I need to get back to class.  See you soon, right?"

"'Course.  Text me whenever," Sera shrugged.  I slipped my red coat on and my black woolen cap with a fuzz ball sitting on top, waved goodbye to the city elf, and walked out the door and into the cold.  

That was the wonderful thing about Haven.  It was warm about three months of the year, then the rest it was freezing.  Even though I was used to it and didn't particularly mind, all of the Orlesian students were  _always_ complaining.  Like, seriously.  This is Ferelden.  Specifically, this is  _in the middle of the Frostbacks._ Wear a freaking coat and get on with your life.  

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket, so before I pulled out onto the road I checked it.  A faint smile played on my lips.

 _Swol Solas:  
_ _When you come to work, be prepared to listen to Dorian complain about the cold, lethallan._

Of course.  There were all the Orlesian students, and  _then_ there was Dorian Pavus.

My thumbs tapped the screen as I attached an image of the King Théoden meme, where in bold white letters it read:  AND SO IT BEGINS.  I laughed to myself.  I was so dang hilarious.

A few seconds later Solas replied.  

_Swol Solas:  
Ha!  I will attempt to refrain from showing him such an accurate depiction._

I responded before I had to drive back to campus and get my butt to class.  

_Or just tell Dorian that winter is coming.  That'll certainly cheer him up.  I think.  Pretty sure.  Then ask him in detail about how warm Tevinter is this time of year.  I'm sure that'll calm him down, as well._

_Swol Solas:  
You are amusing.  But I think I will save that for you to say to him._

Another text popped up on my phone.  I really needed to get going, but that wasn't going to happen, it looked like.

_Durian Pahrvus:  
I saw your little funny you sent to Solas.  I am your boss, Alaran; I can make your life miserable._

_Oooh, so scary.  What're you going to do, SPARKLE me to death?_

As I dropped my phone in the console of my car and got out onto the road, my phone began buzzing with Dorian spamming my inbox with all sorts of heinous messages.  All of which I ignored.  

I was almost to my normal parking spot when a woman standing on the sidewalk caught my eye.  She was incredibly tall, wore a plaidweave unitard with a black trenchoat, and had a Mohawk that brushed forward into a flame-like appearance.

She jovially waved at me.

I warily waved back.

Huh.  That was...weird.  

Hold on a second...

I did a double-take, craning my head over my shoulder and looking back out the window while trying not to crash into anything or anyone to see if I could get a better look at the lady.  Was it the same person who had slammed into Varric naked?  

But there was no sight of plaidweave or Mohawks on the sidewalk when I searched once more.  So I turned back around and put my mind to other things.

-

_She is too young for you._

_She is far too young for you._

"Ah!  I've already gotten a name for the soon-to-be couple!" Dorian declared.  He was wearing a thick blue parka in the back of his store.  It wasn't  _that_ cold.  The mage was just dramatic.  

Solas looked up from his laptop.  He was writing an email in response to one of his interns.  She was a bright mind, and despite her quirky and odd personality, she showed much promise.  He would most likely see to it that she be hired, some time soon.  "And I suppose you'll say it whether I want to hear it or not," Solas quipped.

Dorian moved his hands in the air above him, showcasing the invisible title.   _"Solavellan._ Marvelous, isn't it?  And it only took me hardly a minute to come up with it!  What do you think?  I do believe it will stick."

"I...Dorian, there is nothing between Alaran and me," Solas sighed.  For some reason his heart twisted at hearing his own words.  Like the thought of it was just  _wrong._

Still, it didn't make it any less true.

The two met each other with a level gaze.  Dorian was the first to speak.  "If that were true, then you wouldn't be where you are, right now.  I know I am such  _amazing_ company, but come now, let's be completely forthright.  You come only to see her."

Solas' jaw clenched.  He had no such intention...

"Hello, boys," Alaran sang as she glided through the door leading from the alleyway where they parked their cars, tugging off her black stocking cap with her good arm and sticking it on a random mannequin.  Next she slid off her red coat and tossed it on a hanger.  Her hair was curled and she wore a long-sleeved, black and blue colored houndstooth dress with thick black pantyhose and the regular knee-high black boots she typically put on--

He even knew her favorite pair of shoes.

_Fenedhis._

"How is your wing, darling?" Dorian asked.  Alaran snorted at his apparel first before answering.  

"Better.  I should be able to do the chicken dance to maximum power within a day or two."  She casually walked behind Dorian, but stopped and shoved her bare hand down his jacket.  Solas laughed before he could stop himself at the look on Dorian's face when he felt her cold skin on his bare back.  She danced away as he spun around to grab her.  

"Andraste's tits, why  _are you freezing?"_ he exclaimed.  

"Because winter is coming," Alaran replied in a deep voice.  "Oh, and is this dress okay to wear in the store?  I figured it would be, with how white and gold it is."

She threw her head back and laughed at her joke as Dorian scoffed.  "Darling, you're behind on your trending jokes.  That wasn't funny even when it was a thing; it is hardly funny now."

"But seriously, can I wear it?"

"...Yes."

Alaran shimmied her hips in a miniature celebration.  She produced her name tag and tried pinning it on, but struggled because she only had one hand to do so.  After a few struggling, strangling noises, Solas chuckled and said,  _"Lethallan._ Come.  I can do it for you."  

She strode over to him and gave the name tag for Solas to put on.  When his hands moved up above her breast, his ears turned an unceremonious red when he remembered how he had accidentally... _touched..._ one of them.  

And, the fool that he was, he had to glance up just to see Alaran with a smirk on her lips.  She winked.  "Don't be getting any bright ideas," she whispered as Dorian continued to complain loudly about the cold.  "The lights are on, this time."

He firmly clasped the name tag and let his hand drop.  "I believed you to be more mature than that, _da'len_ ," he attempted to respond coldly, to tell her that he  _shouldn't_ be interested. _  
_

Alaran only rolled with the remark.  "Oh, I am, but only when it matters.  If I was mature  _all_ the time, then I would be like you."  Yet again, she was still smirking, but her voice had turned to steel.  "And wouldn't that be utterly boring."

Ah.  So she had heard his subtlety clearly.  Very well.

Before Solas could open his mouth and continue to raise the tension between them, Alaran's eyes flashed with pain and she rubbed her temple with the palm of her hand.  She turned away, muttering, and disappeared into the front of the store.

His stomach roiled as he watched Alaran walk away.

-

_Asshat.  No.  Ass Egg.  Yeah, good one, Al.  Ass Egg.  Heh.  Bet nobody has ever thought of **that,** before._

I pulled out my phone and changed his contact number from  _Swol Solas_ to  _Ass Egg._ It was more fitting.  He would get the former title back when he redeemed himself.

What I had said wasn't that bad, was it?  I was only joking.  I really knew it was accidental, and that Solas would never do something like that on purpose.  Ugh.   _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

I resisted face-palming.  "Alaran?" Josephine asked me kindly.  "Are you well?  Do you need to go home?"

Ever since word had gotten around the Inner Circle that I got super sick last week, they were all cooing and being mother hens to me.  And it wasn't fair that I couldn't even  _snap_ at Josie, because she was like the bright ray of Antivan sunshine in anybody's day.  If I ever yelled at her I would probably be the devil--

I winced again when my vision got spots.  I leaned against the counter and drew in a few deep breaths.   ** _Nothing is matching up where are you this isn't right you need to get out can't you feel the confines oh you poor girl you really didn't know the forces you were playing with it was just as he had said--_** _  
_

"Ooh, you don't look so swell," somebody said, placing a hand on my shoulder and cutting a path of clarity through the encroaching darkness.  My vision returned to normal and I gave Josephine a small, reassuring smile before turning to the customer.

I paused.

"You okay?" the woman with the Mohawk questioned.  She still wore the same awful plaidweave unitard and trench coat, but she still somehow managed to look absolutely radiant.  

"I...yes," I said, straightening my shoulders and putting on a pleasant face.  Everything that I had felt was receding so quickly I wasn't sure what I had been thinking about in the first place.  "How can I help you?"

"Yeah, where's your second-hand stuff?" she asked.  Her emerald green eyes bore into me and I felt something  _tingle_ in the back of my mind, but she blinked and I lost the feeling.   _  
_

"You just go up the stairs," I pointed compliantly, "then it should be there!"

"Thanks, pal," she beamed, and made her way up.  

"Well," Josephine said under her breath when the woman was out of earshot.  "She was dressed quite...particularly."

"You know, I saw her--"

The back door opened and Dorian poked his head through.  "Alaran, would you be a doll and grab the mop and cleaning supplies out from the supply closet?  Solas just vomited quite profusely on my floor."

Concern rose in my chest and threatened to draw my eyebrows together, but I quelled it as best I could into composure.  "And I bet you're expecting me to clean it.  With one arm."

"Well, I figured you had the most expertise with  _Solas_ and  _vomit_ put together, seeing as you sang Dalish lullabies to him while he threw up in your bathroom."

I threw my arm in the air.  "Okay, I don't know where Iron Bull got that, but I did no such thing."

"Hmm.  Yes, well, it still doesn't change the fact that the longer we stand here, the longer the smell seeps into my clothes."

"Oh, so I should just stand here for another fifteen minutes?--Ayy, I'm kidding," I said, holding my thumb up in my good hand and lamely propping up the other in the sling.  "I'll go and grab the stuff.  You can take my place, for now."

After getting the mop and the water ready I went into the back once more.

Yep.  There it was.  

 _"Ir abelas,"_ Solas spoke as he stepped from the small bathroom we had.  He was pale and shaky.  "You need not worry yourself.  I can clean it."

"Dude, you need to, like, sit down or something," I said, letting the furrow I had been trying to keep away from my forehead seep through.

"I am--"

"Solas.  Sit down."

"...Very well."

I got the mop out and started to clean while Solas sat in a chair.  Well, rather he  _hunched_ in it.  "Can't you, just, you know, use magic?" I asked lightly.  

"In most things, yes, but when it comes to what I believe is food poisoning, it usually does little," Solas replied quietly.  I winced in sympathy.

"Ooh.  I'm sorry.  You're not having the best of luck, as of late, are you?"  I didn't let him answer.  "Well, have no fear! Alaran Lavellan is the best at cleaning up bodily fluids!"  I then set to work, humming to myself.  After a short while I said, "You know, you should probably go home.  Typically when one is physically ill, they do stuff like that."

"Perhaps you are right."

"Nuh uh.  Not  _perhaps._ I  _am_ right.  Solas.  Go home."

We stared each other down for a few moments.  "I'm going to win," I stated blandly.  "You know this."

He huffed and stood slowly, then grabbed his coat and put it on while I finished cleaning up the mess.  "I hope you get to feeling better," I said to Solas as he fished out his keys from his pocket.  

 _"Ma serannas, lethallan."_ Solas then left before he could be sick all over again.

It wasn't until I after had told Dorian a million times over that it was safe and clean for him to come back in, the lady with the Mohawk bought an assortment of odd clothes, and the three of us workers ate a box of doughnuts from  _Lace's Bakery Shoppe_ did I realize that Solas had left his laptop at one of the tables.  "Darling, I'm not leaving this place until after I've finished up work of my own," Dorian said with feigned remiss as he gestured to all of his mannequins.  I squirmed internally.  I didn't like how they were in different positions every day.  

"And I have a date!" Josephine said proudly.  Dorian and I both whirled on her, gasping.  

 _"What?_ Why didn't you tell us?" I demanded to know.  

"It didn't cross my mind," she laughed.  

"Who is he?"

"Well..." Josephine said, suddenly reluctant.  "It is a blind date that I am going on with Cassandra."

"Wait.   _Cassandra_ is going on a date?" I asked incredulously.  "No wonder why the world has gone crazy!"

And that was how I ended up getting the Ass Egg's address so I could swing by and drop off his computer.  

So yes.  The world  _had_ gone crazy.

Of  _course_ he had to live in a townhouse.  It was the nice ones that had recently been built a little over a year ago, too, on the  _really_ nice side of Haven, up past the University and alongside the mountains themselves.  He had a fantastic view of the city without even having to be particularly high up.  Ugh.

I hauled the black messenger bag he had left, as well, with his laptop and an assortment of papers nestled inside.  The sun had already set, so the only light I was provided with were the lampposts from the street.   _I really hope this is his house this is going to be embarrassing enough as it is I don't need to get the wrong address as well._

My finger pressed down on the doorbell once.  There were lights on inside, so somebody was home.  I held my breath up until the door opened and Solas stood there.  "Hi!  Yeah, so, you forgot your bag and your laptop and I figured that you might need it," I automatically began.  "Dorian gave me your address.  Which, I promise that I won't use to my own advantage.  Maybe.  Probably.  Honestly, I can't foresee the future, so who knows?"

"Oh," Solas said, looking genuinely surprised that I had shown up with his stuff.  "Thank you.  I feared I had left it there."  I shrugged the strap off my shoulder and handed it to Solas.  

"How're you feeling?" I asked with a tilt of my head.  

"Better," he replied with a slight nod.  "Though I don't suppose I'll be going to work, tomorrow.  And...again, thank you for cleaning up...my mess.  I apologize for not helping more."

I shrugged and flashed an easy smirk.  "Really, Solas, it's alright.  It happens to the best of us."

"Still.  I should repay you in some way."

"Let me make you some soup."

"...Pardon?"

But I had already made my way into his house.  It was clean, as I expected it to be, and looked like a private library.  There were bookshelves that reached so high I would have to jump if I wanted to get a book on the top.  A sleek flat-screen TV hung on the wall, facing the comfy-looking couch.  The floor was wooden, and there weren't pictures so much as there were paintings.  

Safe to say, the paintings were beautiful.

I drank everything in as I made my way past the staircase and into the kitchen, which wasn't the biggest but still had plenty of room to move around.  There wasn't a wall separating it from the living room, only a marble counter lined with four stools.  "Alaran," Solas said as he trailed behind me.  "That is not necessary.  I--"

"Look, you were kind of an ass to me, today," I interrupted frankly, stopping him mid-sentence.  "You want to make up for it?  Then let me make you soup."

He huffed.  "That is not usually how "making up" works."

"No," I smirked, opening the fridge and being pleased at seeing an abundance of fresh vegetables, fruits, and meats.  "But if anything, I'm not unoriginal.  Besides, Varric is working late again and Hawke and his band are out-of-town, so if I go home I'll be all by myself.  And it's just kind of a soup night, I feel like."  I started grabbing random things and piled them in my arms, and a few into the sling itself.  I then closed the door with my hip.  Solas had leaned against the counter and folded his arms.  He was wearing a long-sleeved gray t-shirt and jeans with black socks.  "So are you going to let me make you something or not?"

After a long, drawn-out sigh, Solas gave a nod for me to go ahead.  "But I will assist you," he said, stepping fully into the kitchen.  

"Um, you're sick--"

"That does not make me incapable.  And need I remind you that you have only one arm," Solas cut off politely as he moved to wash his hands.  I rolled my eyes, but joined him and held out my own.  He looked down at it and raised an eyebrow.  

"Wash my hand, Solas."

"Ah.  Of course."

He pushed my sleeve up and pumped soap into my palm and guided it under running water.  I tried to keep my thoughts and feelings as blank as possible as Solas gently lathered my hand and scrubbed it until it was good and clean, then thoroughly rinsed it off.  After, he grabbed a nearby dish towel and patted it dry.  "Thank you," I chimed, smirking so I wouldn't blush and tucking a stray curl behind my ear.  "Let's get started, shall we?"

-

Solas frowned when a song came on his Pandora station.  I laughed as I stirred the soup, which was smelling heavenly and looking creamy and delicious.  "Well.   _That_ isn't anything similar to Frank Sinatra music, is it?"  I looked over my shoulder to see him moving to skip it.  "No!  Don't!"

"It isn't--"

"This song reminds me of you," I said over Solas' words.  He paused.  "Haven't you ever heard it?   _Hallelujah?"_

"This isn't Rufus Wainright."

"No, not that  _Hallelujah!_ This is Panic!  At the Disco's  _Hallelujah!"_

His frown deepened the longer it played.  I was mouthing the words to the song and swaying my body.  "How in the world does..." Solas gestured erratically to the air that was filled with the sound waves,  _"this_ remind you of me?" _  
_

I shrugged amidst my improvised dancing.  "I don't know.  Have you ever got caught under the covers with second-hand lovers?"  

 _"No,"_ Solas replied curtly, but he was trying to hide his smile.  "Are you quite done?  This song has skewed the mood."

"Oh, so there's a  _mood,_ now, huh?" I said as I waggled my eyebrows.  The tips of his ears turned red.  

"I did not mean...you are incorrigible."

"Hey!  You're finally catching up to what the rest of the world knows!  Good for you, Solas, good for you," I grinned.  Solas shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose before moving to the next song, which was, unsurprisingly, Frank Sinatra.  That transitioned my dancing back to a slow sway.  A soft, clear hum resonated in my throat.  I was overtly aware of Solas' gaze on me, but I let him continue.  I didn't mind.

_You're getting the feels for him, aren't you?_

"Alright, it's done," I declared after taking a sip from the spoon I had been stirring the soup with.  I turned the stove off triumphantly.  "Man, I may have been booted out of the Dalish club, but I sure am glad I know how to make their soup."

"As am I," Solas agreed as he took two white ceramic bowls out from his cupboard.  I dished him only one spoonful while I gave myself two.  I figured that I should let him try to stomach that much before putting any more in.  

We sat down at the counter.  While Solas gently blew on his spoonful I shoved mine in my mouth and suffered the consequences, making the signature _oh_ _no this is hot I messed up guys I messed up somebody halp me while I try and cool it down in my mouth with puffs of air_ face.  When it was finally cool enough I chewed the vegetables and chunks of chicken and swallowed, then took in a huge gasp and whimpered.  "Did you burn your tongue?" Solas asked idly as he blew on another spoonful.  I made a face at him.

"Okay, so I may not be the most patient person, but I believe that it is an outrage that we have to wait for food to cool down," I said pointedly.  Solas breathed a laugh.

"Didn't your parents ever teach you that the simplest solution is to simply wait five seconds before taking a bite?"

"Well, my parents and I kind of didn't get along, most of the time, so it wasn't first on their list to teach me food etiquette," I shrugged nonchalantly.  

Solas paused, curiosity sparking in his gray-blue eyes.  I was close enough to see that he had light freckles dusted across his nose and cheekbones.  "Oh, go ahead," I sighed witheringly.  "I know you want to ask me all about my past."

He tilted his head, the corner of his lip twitching upward.  Ugh.  I hated how he did that.  It was so stupid.  "Will I get an honest answer in return?"

I brought more soup to my mouth and ate it, repeating the process once again.  Solas rolled his eyes, but it was a forced movement.  After I felt the contents wash down my throat and heating my tummy, I said, "Why, Solas, why would you ever think I would  _lie_ to you?"

"Hm.  I am unsure.  Perhaps you just have one of those faces."

"And by one of those faces, I'm assuming you mean that it's completely lovely?"  My fingers drew a heart around the frame of my skull.  

"Well..."  Solas was smirking lightly, now, crinkling the corners of his eyes.  "That is just one description."

"Ooh, that was smooth," I complimented.  The tips of his ears turned red and he chuckled as he averted his eyes down to his soup bowl.  I made a noise and stirred my spoon, watching everything swirl lazily in a circle.  "I had too many shemlen thoughts running through my head.  I wanted to  _be_ a shemlen, they said.  And the shem don't belong in the Dalish.  I was  _not_ Dalish.  Because the Dalish don't want to play violin, they don't want to sing and dance, and they don't want to completely shred the guitar and go to college."  The soup now had a little whirlpool at the center.  I faintly smiled at it.  "The only reason why I have my  _vallaslin_ was because, even at sixteen, I wanted to try and make them see that I would always be Dalish at heart, no matter how far I left their little world.  That maybe, just maybe, when they saw I had freely marked my face at a younger age than what was typically required, they would understand that I was trying for them, for the People.  I would make them all proud. _  
_

"But they didn't want that.  They wanted me to be the clan's First, and stick my roots into a stagnant tradition that only sees their own problems and not the world's.  When I finally went to my parents and the Keeper to tell them that I wanted to go to college, I was prepared to also tell them that I would help our people, that I would do whatever it took to bring the Dalish into a new age and reclaim what was lost to us.  But before I could my father struck me.  He had done it, before, but never in front of Keeper Deshanna.  The whole clan knew he did it--I'm sure she did, too--but because of my "unruly behavior" they always ignored the bruises on my body." A small, bitter laugh escaped up from my chest.  "The Keeper did nothing.  In fact, it prompted her to get the idea that if I wanted to be a shem, then I would be punished like a shem.   _'Fen'Harel's teeth for you!'"_ I impersonated in her gravelly, low voice.  Solas stiffened and I felt shock and anger roll off his body.  "So I picked myself up off the floor, humbly told them that I would prepare myself for rightful punishment, went to the trailer house where we lived, packed a duffel bag full of my clothes and essentials, and ran.  To this day, I don't know how I got out.  Whether it be by guidance from dead elven gods, the Maker himself, or my own sheer will and luck, I managed to get to a bus station.  Never looked back."

That wasn't the whole story, of course.  Solas knew that.  But he didn't press.

I shifted my gaze back to him and gave a small smile.  "Varric found me on the street.  The storyteller he is couldn't help but find out how a young, teenage, Dalish girl wound up digging through a dumpster for semi-edible food.  He didn't have to do it; he could have kept on walking and wondering.  But...a hot meal was bought for me, a friendly smile was given, and..." I shrugged, my smile turning into a smirk.  "The rest is history."

Solas was silent as he stared at me for several moments.  I stared back as I tried to simultaneously eat my soup.  Finally he snorted when I missed my mouth and broth splashed onto my cheek and down the front of my dress.  "Awww," I groaned.  Solas handed me a napkin so I could pat myself dry.  "Now I'm going to smell like soup the rest of the night."

"I would not worry too much about it," he smiled.  "But there is...ah..." 

Solas wiped away a spot I missed on my cheek.  My stomach got stupid butterflies in them.  

"Eat your soup, ser," I smirked.

 _"Ma nuvenin,_ mamae."

I changed his contact name  _Ass Egg_ back to  _Swol Solas._

-

 _"You should have let me sleep,"_ I quoted in the deepest voice I could manage, then made cracking noises as I pressed my hands close together without disrupting the sling one was in.  

"Have you seen this movie many times?"

"Have I--have I seen this movie  _many times?_ Solas, I've watched Khan squish the admiral's head more than I've...well, more than a lot of things.  Oh don't give me that look I'm a little preoccupied marveling at this cinematic masterpiece at the moment."

I pulled the soft fleece blanket closer to my body as the two of us watched  _Star Trek:  Into Darkness._ Solas was beside me, resting idly.  But from the way his eyebrows slightly furrowed showed that he was as intensely focused as I was.  

Oh, I was going to change that.

Honestly, I wasn't a big supporter of judging age difference in people who were in a relationship.  If they were both mature enough to make their own decisions and face whatever consequences may come, whether good or bad, I was fine with that.  So when I begrudgingly came to terms that I did, in fact, like the Ass Egg, I really didn't have any reservations about it all.  Solas, on the other hand, did.  That I could see without him saying it out loud.  But, let's face it; with my dashing, charming, beautiful looks, it was only a matter of time before Solas fell for my womanly wiles.  

Time for me to be a  ** _smmmoooooooooth criminal._**

Casually, I leaned in and rested my head on Solas' shoulder, bringing my legs up to my chest and tightening the blanket around me.  I felt him initially straighten, but much to my relief he relaxed.  I made comments about the movie and went about as if I hadn't just made a move on him.  But that damn mage knew how to make a move or two of his own.  He adjusted his arm and put it around me.  I smelt the faint scent of cologne and...books?  Yeah.  Books.  Or maybe that was just my imagination.  Whichever it was, I wasn't complaining.  I glanced up and saw him hurriedly move his eyes back to the screen.  That made me smirk, but I didn't say anything.  

When the movie was finished, I simply asked, "Another?"

"Yes.  Another."

_Hue hue hue._

 

  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay. I love spoiling you guys as much as you love being spoiled. What can I say, adult life is hard. I give it two out of five stars, and would highly recommend getting your money back if you ever do find yourself in such a predicament. 
> 
> I do give you all being lovely five out of five stars, though.


	10. Watching and Waiting for Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Mainly fluff.

"Varric.  Turn that off."

He craned his head over to Al, who was chopping something up on a cutting board and tossing things into a frying pan and coming up with some sort of concoction he wasn't sure exactly was.  But whatever it may be, smelled delicious.  And since she had gotten that damn sling off she was using both hands to do as much she could with it.  "But you usually like listening to the evening news."

"Not tonight I don't."

When Al didn't turn around to look at him, Varric allowed the corners of his lips to tug into a frown.  But he didn't turn the television off.  Instead he really paid attention by setting his phone down and turning his eyes to the screen.

_"...on the rise.  Templars have redoubled their efforts, and recently raided an underground mage cell in Denerim.  All fugitives were apprehended and taken to an undisclosed Circle for rehabilitation."_

"Varric."

Shit.  She was using her scary voice, now.  

"Alright, alright," he muttered, reaching for the remote and pressing the power button.  The television went blank.  

Oh, he knew Al had people.  And Al knew that some of her people were also his people.  It was all very complex and overdone, but that was the way things went when it came to the "Network."  

Varric wanted her to stay out of it.  Andraste's knickers, he just wanted her to graduate and travel the world performing for people and making music and doing whatever the hell she wanted to.  But apparently to Al, "doing whatever the hell she wanted to" meant that she was going to play her hand in this whole shit-storm.  He knew it was just a matter of time before she would get the idea in her head, but that still didn't make hearing about it any more pleasant.  They all knew that Al was a mover and a shaker, though.  At first, Varric had been worried that she would get herself into trouble when he had first taken her in early on.  She...well, she was a handful.   _Should_ he have read parenting books?  Most likely.  But  _did_ he?  Nah.  Al turned out alright, even with all the fucked up stuff she went through.   _He did a pretty good job, actually,_ he thought as he watched Alaran.

She dropped a chunk of raw meat on the floor.  "Shit on a stick," Al cursed, bent down to pick it up, then tossed it into the frying pan as she hummed an unfamiliar tune. _  
_

Well.  Varric had gotten close enough. 

"Hey, kid, whatcha humming?" he asked aloud.  

 _"Once We Were._ Jeez, Varric, you should know that one.  You sang it to me back on our way from the Exalted Plains, remember?" Alaran chuckled.

"What?  I've never heard that song, before," Varric laughed back.  "And we haven't been to the Exalted Plains in years!"

Al's grip on the wooden spoon she was stirring with tightened, and a small tremble ran through her body.  It was slight and otherwise would have been unnoticeable to anybody else.  But Varric wasn't just anybody.  

He was already halfway standing when Alaran shimmied her hips and shoulders and continued stirring.  "My bad, Varric," she chimed, and looked over her shoulder to give him a smirk.  "I think I just made up a new song.  Go me."

Varric gave her an easy smile in return, but it took a while for his racing heart to calm down.  Meanwhile, Al filled the kitchen with even louder, clearer humming.

They also both knew that he was worried about the state of her mind.  Not that he thought Al was crazy; just the opposite.  But brilliant minds mixed with intensely traumatic experiences often times didn't mesh well.  So Varric waited.  He wasn't sure what it was he waited for, exactly, but he waited nonetheless.  

While there may not have been anybody else who watched Alaran as vigilantly as Varric did, there were plenty of others who loved her and made sure she knew that she was.  Especially Hawke.

...Hawke.  Shit.  The poor guy basically screamed that he thought he loved her.   _Thought._ He didn't actually, but also didn't realize that minor detail.  It was painful to watch.  And Al, as intelligent as she was, was completely ignorant to the disgusting googly eyes he made at her. _  
_

Varric honestly didn't know what was worse.  The  fact that his best friend liked his adopted daughter, or that his adopted daughter liked a stuffy, hopelessly dorky elf more than a decade older than she was.  And that he liked her back as well.

He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.  Al would be the death of him.  

"Hey, dinner's done," she said, standing on her tip toes to grab two bowls and dishing up their meal.  A small, genuine smile played on her dark lips.  She was wearing one of Varric's old black t-shirts that he had way back when he was the PR for the Champions of Kirkwall.   _ **Chest Hair in the Front**_ it read in both white letters on the front, then on the opposite side it said  ** _Party in the Back._** It was accompanied with leggings that had badgers on them.  Her short white hair was pulled over one shoulder, messy from having run her fingers through it as she often did, though he doubted she ever realized she did so.  Al's nails were still chipped black from Halloween, and her cheeks were colored due to the heat rising from the food she had been preparing.  As Varric sat down on a stool she pushed the bowl in front of him and a fork.  "Beer, tonight?  Oh, and I made lemonade, too.  The strawberry kind."

"Does it have chunks of actual strawberries in it?"

"Always."

"I'll take that over a beer any day."

Well...it wasn't be the worst death Varric could think of.  

-

 _Alaran Lavellan:  
_ _2 Video Attachments_

_Alaran Lavellan:  
Which one should I play for the university's gala?  Be honest.  _

Solas looked down at the messages, a pang of guilt twinging in his chest from not being able to answer immediately.  

Dagna paused in her rapid talking.  "Everything alright, ser?" she asked, pressing her index fingers together and looking up at him curiously.  

"Yes," he replied a bit too curtly than he actually meant.  But Dagna was...well, Dagna.  If she noticed, she didn't care.  

"Okay!  Well, I was working on that one rune you asked me to check out, and I found something about it that you may want to hear about.  It's really cool!  "

Solas certainly  _looked_ focused as Dagna talked, but his mind kept wandering to what was awaiting him in the video attachments.  It was quite a bad habit he was forming, actually.  She would text him sporadically throughout the day and he would answer back.  Most of it was rebellion-related, but occasionally it was a joke or a thought that always made him smile.  

As soon as Dagna finished Solas instructed her to write a report.  It would be a mistake, in the long-run; the dwarf's writing gave him a headache, it was so erratic and confusing.  But he had gotten nothing out of what she was telling him, thanks to images of a certain white-haired elf constantly gathering in his mind.

When he sat down at his desk he pulled out his phone from his pocket and opened the first video.  It was of Alaran on stage at the university, playing on her violin.  The music was sweet and jaunty and fast-paced, and it left Solas grinning.  The second piece was just as good as the first, but was slower, smoother, and had an incredible melody to it.  Solas undoubtedly believed that Alaran had composed it all herself.  When it ended, there was raucous cheering from the person recording.  Sera.  

Though he loved both, he responded:

_I prefer the second, if you are to play it at a gala._

Alaran sent back a message less than a minute later.

 _Alaran Lavellan:  
_ _That's what I figured._

 _Alaran Lavellan:  
_ _The first is a bit too "I'm a classical music major but I've got too much spunk for you to properly handle."_

 _Alaran Lavellan:  
_ _The second is more, "I need all of your money so I can keep playing like the musical prodigy I am."_

He snorted.  

_Perhaps you could do the piece, "I am sarcastically playing for you so I can use your money to further my own goals and machinations?"_

_Alaran Lavellan:  
Oh, good one.  I'll work on getting it ready._

_Alaran Lavellan:  
Hey, I have a question for you._

For some reason, Solas' heart began to race.

_Yes?_

_Alaran Lavellan:_  
_Do you realize that dogs are just one giant eyebrow?  They keep going and going and never ending._

_Alaran Lavellan:  
Second question_

_Alaran Lavellan:  
Do you think I've ever eaten strawberries from the same plant?_

_Alaran?_

_Alaran Lavellan:_  
_What?_

_You need to take a break from Tumblr._

_Alaran Lavellan:  
Don't tell me how to live my life, Solas._

_Alaran Lavellan:  
But you're probably right._

_Alaran Lavellan:_  
_Hey_

_Alaran Lavellan:  
I'm thinking..._

_Alaran Lavellan:  
We should grab some takeout, light a few candles..._

Solas swallowed. 

 _Alaran Lavellan:  
_ _And discuss how we can use the university's network to raise revenue for the underground elven cell in the Emerald Graves without catching any unwanted eyes.  I have a few ideas I'd like to bounce off of you before I got to Briala and tell her what I've come up with._

_Alaran Lavellan:  
Well._

_Alaran Lavellan:  
What we've come up with._

Ah.  Of course she would begin such a thing that way.  

-

 _Demons pouring out of a green tear in what looked to be the Veil came charging at me.  I blocked a blow from a rage demon with my greatsword.  "You know," I grunted to Blackwall, "it kinda sucks fighting something_ made of fire  _when your own sword is also_ made of fire."  

_"Seems to me that you've found yourself in a poor predicament," Blackwall yelled back as he combated a spindly envy demon.  "It reminds me of a poem--"_

"...All in all, it was quite a lovely third date," Josephine gushed.  I smirked back.  

"Blackwall seems like a cool dude, for a police officer and all.  But you do know that you'll have to bring him by sometime when the I.C. is all together, right?"

"Oh, for the last time," Dorian sighed as he straightened up a rack of clothes.  "It was hard enough getting the title  _Inner Circle_ to work.  But  _I.C.?_ That only spells embarrassment, darling."

"Actually, it literally spells I.C.  And I mean literally."  

"Shut up.  And beware, Josie; Alaran has enough Chuck Norris beard jokes to make anyone sick to their stomach; she'll most likely hit this Blackwall with ten times more than the suggested amount."

I pointed a gun-finger at him, grinning crookedly.  "You got that right."

"Oh, I'm sure he won't mind.  He has quite the sense of humor," Josephine assured.  "He's..."

I stopped listening.  Not that I didn't like hearing the Antivan talk about her almost-boyfriend who, in fact, was the same police officer who came to our door a few weeks ago to tell us about a complaint.  I honestly had no idea she went for guys like that.  It was cute.  But my mind started drifting because of the own guy I was thinking about.  He should be coming into the store later this evening.  Maybe I could catch him--

_\--Hot mouths colliding in a dark tent, bodies sliding against each other, with each other.  "Ma vhenan," a voice whispers into the black, sparking light within me, sparking light within him.  "You smell of lavender."_

_"Shh," I say in response.  "We wouldn't want to wake the others in the camp."  It was halfheartedly spoken and said with a smile he could not see but could still hear._

_A hand slides under my tunic and fingers trail up my back.  "And would you be embarrassed if they did hear?" Solas asked, his breath hot on my cheek._

_"No.  But you would.  Something about pride and all that.  I have no idea why you two are even correlated, but..."_

_A fierce kiss interrupted my sentence._

Whoa.

Wait.

No.

What?

What did I just imagine?

I excused myself to use the bathroom.  I waited until neither Josephine or Dorian could see me before I placed a hand to my head and grimaced.  I could still  _feel_ the touch of a hand on my back and a nipping kiss on the lobe of my ear.  It was so vivid and so  _real._ It was as if it were an actual memory.

**_It's not adding up look around you need to get out you need to get out before time is up time will be up soon and then you'll all be gone every single one of you and...and..._ **

_...and..._

And.

And what?

I looked at my own reflection in the mirror and raised an eyebrow at myself.

What was I thinking, again?

Shrugging, I walked back out while texting Solas on the way.

_Are we still on for tonight?_

He texted back almost immediately.  I smirked.

_Swol Solas:  
I had presumed so.   _

_Swol Solas:  
Has something come up?_

_Nope.  Just double-checking._

_Hey._

_Are you swinging by the shop tonight?_

_Swol Solas:  
Yes.  There is information I need to drop off to Dorian._

_Swol Solas:  
Why do you ask?_

_Oh...I was just wondering if you could pick me up a doughnut.  But if you can't it's no biggie.  I_ _'m having withdrawals, that's all._

_Swol Solas:  
I would be happy to._

_Shanx, pal._

It's not manipulation if I like the person.  And I liked Solas.  But let's be honest, here; Solas would have gone there, anyways, with or without me asking him to.  He had probably one of the worst sweet-tooth I had ever come across.  And his teeth were  _pearly,_ too!  It wasn't fair.

I still couldn't help but smile.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Alaran is one of those people who has to send her texts in several messages, even if she could just put it in one. So Varric, Solas, Dorian, Vivienne, and all of the Inner Circle will find themselves in quiet or serious places and then their phone will go off. Repeatedly. They all know who it is without even checking. 
> 
> Her Snapchat is even worse.


	11. Sickening Sweetness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole shows up, Al is shady cool af, and the two elfy elves get all floofy floof.

"This place feels wrong but you don't know why.  None of us know why.  We are tethers, slim and strained, watching and waiting for the Moment."

I should have jumped at the sudden voice behind me, but for some reason I didn't.  It was faintly familiar, but then again a lot of things were familiar to me.  

Instead I turned slowly and made sure to have a small smile on my face.  A tall boy stood a few feet away, dressed in a large, olive green coat and a ski cap.  His feet pointed slightly inward and he slouched a bit.  Blond, shaggy hair swept across his forehead and down past his ears.  Pale blue eyes stared into me, even if they were a bit glassy and nonthreatening.

"I'm sorry?  What was that?" I repeated, unsure if he was being serious or not and pretending that his words didn't perturb me.  

"I...I don't know.  I feel...strange," he said tentatively and shifting his feet.  

"Well," I smiled, "we all do.  But sometimes that's a good sign.  Is it a good strange?"

"I...maybe.  I can't tell, yet.  My name is Cole.  And you're Alaran."

"That I am.  What can I help you with, Cole?"

"I will be performing with you at the gala."

I kept surprise from flickering across my face.  It wasn't that I was mad I wouldn't be performing by myself; I had just thought that I _was_ the only one.  That actually took off a lot of stress.  I just hoped he wouldn't be in any danger.  It was only a matter of time before my name and face would be known for supporting and organizing things not everybody liked.  And, with certain people, dislike turned into hatred and opposition. 

Cole kept explaining.  "They keep telling me that I'm "good," but sometimes I don't understand.  How can I be good when there is still so much I need to learn?"

"Just because you don't know everything doesn't mean that you can't be good," I answered, and went back to putting rosin on my bow.  "So you're that freshman they keep talking about, huh?  The one who can play a wicked cello?  Awesome."

"My hands move but I don't know how.  It's not me playing.  It's something else.  It's what I want me to play," Cole said factually.  He looked down at his hands.  "Something else moves me."

"Are you sure you shouldn't be in philosophy?"

Cole opened his mouth to respond, but I held up a hand and waved him off.  "Rhetorical.  I know you have some kind of answer that only makes semi sense.  But let's save that for another night, shall we?  Maybe over a nice cup of black coffee in a cafe where they read crappy poetry and wear turtlenecks?  For now, though..." I bopped Cole's nose with the tip of my bow.  He blinked in surprise.  "Let's finger some wood."

I tossed my head back and gave a throaty giggle as Cole stared at me blankly.  Ah.  So he was one of  _those_ kids.

-

"Phil Coulson is my spirit animal.  He's, like, my patronus charm.  WWCD.  What would Coulson do?  That's what I ask when I find myself surrounded by aliens and Hydra agents."  I shoved more lo mein in my mouth.  

Solas' brow furrowed as he tried and failed to pick up a chunk of beef with his own chopsticks.  "I personally prefer Agent Simmons," he said absently, still not looking up from his food.

"Well, everybody loves Simmons.  She's like the Josephine of the Marvel world."  I raised an eyebrow at Solas struggling.  "You need a fork?"

"No."  My eyebrow climbed higher at the sharpness of his tone.  Solas looked up at me and sighed.   _"Ir abelas._ Typically I know how to use these."  He laughed mirthlessly.  "But it's like I've suddenly lost all knowledge on how."

"That's not a good sign.  Maybe we should have you tested?"

"Tested for what?"

"Well, sometimes when you're really sassy and subtly rude to so many people, it has adverse effects.  Such symptoms include nausea, vomiting, confusion, premature baldness..."

Solas rolled his eyes.  I grinned and clacked my chopsticks together.  "Or I can just retrain you.  Look at my fingers.  See?  Like that.  You got it.  Just...here."  I reached over across the table that we were sitting at and moved one of Solas' fingers up a bit.  The tips of his ears automatically turned red.  What a dork.  "Like that.  Okay.  Try it now."

He picked up a piece of broccoli between the chopsticks.  "See?  You got it!"  I twirled more noodles around my own and slurped it up.  "Anyways," I said as I chewed.  "Back to Coulson being the best thing the world has ever been blessed with."

"And what about you?"

I paused.  Solas was still looking down at his food, but his lips were quirked upwards and his ears were a cute pink.  "Niiice," I smirked with a respectful nod of the head.  "That was a good one."

"Thank you."

We both snickered.  

It was becoming a frequent thing, our lunch dates.  One of us would text or call up the other and ask if they were free today, and then we'd meet up if we were.  Solas was wearing a black vest and slacks with a white shirt and a navy blue patterned tie.  I had taken a more simple approach, and was dressed in blue jeans, snowboots, and a long-sleeved green v-neck.  My short hair was put back in a hair clip, and wisps of white locks framed one side of my face.  They didn't frame the other because, you know, it was shaved off.  

I looked out the window we were up against and mock-pouted.  "Ugh.  I don't want to go back to class.  I just want to go and play in the snow.  Build a snowman, go sledding and then come back for hot chocolate.  Or something like that.  Remember--"  _when I declared an official snow day at Skyhold, and I told my advisers to not let any of their people work and do whatever it was they pleased?  Then I made all of us have a snowball fight and Leliana tried to use nugs against me--_ _  
_

"Remember what?" Solas asked me as he successfully used his chopsticks.  

"You know, I don't really think I knew where I was going with that.  Now all I have is a Kodaline song stuck in my head."  I used my chopsticks as an improvised microphone and sang lowly,  _"I can remember the good ol' days, where you and me, we used to hide away.  Where the stars were shining or the sun was blinding our eyes..."_

Solas looked around at the people around us.  I trailed off into a fit of giggles.  "Are you quite done," he tried to ask forlornly, but couldn't keep from smiling a little bit.  

"You think that was bad?  We should play the penis shouting game sometime."

_"No."_

I leaned back.  "Maybe somewhere even more public?  Like that mall?  Ooh!  Ooh!  How about the city library!"

"I will repeat myself.  No."

"Solas.  Oh, my dear Solas.  When will you..."

My phone vibrated loudly on the table.  I picked it up and looked at who texted me.  

 _Restricted Number:  
_ _Orlesian National News.  Watch it now._

I frowned.  The only restricted number that ever texted me was Briala.  I quickly went to their app I had on my home screen and opened it.  A broadcast immediately appeared on the front page.   ** _Elven Rioting in Val Royeaux:  Just the Beginning?_** ** _  
_**

"Ah, poop," I grumbled, and positioned the phone so Solas and I could both watch.  Reluctantly, I pressed the play button.

Grainy video clips of elves and police forces clashing in violent conflict on the gilded streets of the city played.   _"As of today, the tension between the elven residents of Val Royeaux and the city's peace-keeping forces has finally erupted into violence that so many have feared."_ The video cut to elves being hosed down viciously, all of them screaming and scrambling to get out of the way.  Why did this look so  _familiar?  "Will the Orlesian government, and all governments across Thedas, finally recognize what they have been choosing to ignore?  If so, will they continue to react this way?"_

"Who is this reporter?" I asked over the woman speaking.  "She's like honey with poison in it."

"A very beneficial and dangerous trait to have in journalism," Solas responded.  His eyebrows were drawn together.  "This does not bode well." _  
_

"Nope.  The world is seeing.  They're going to try to ignore it, but that won't last long."  I breathed in and out through my nose.  "Do you think Briala orchestrated this?"

"I am not sure.  Briala has typically tried to refrain from physical altercations that would hurt our People, but she never reveals anything wholly to anyone.  But, if she had, and her intent was to get attention, then she certainly succeeded.  This is not a minor few vandalizing a building.  This is the beginning signs of a revolt."

The video went to the woman reporting.  She had short red hair and wore a small, sharp smile that I admired but wouldn't want to be on the other side of.  Her icy blue eyes were lined with perfectly applied makeup, and her dark purple blouse revealed just the right amount of cleavage.   _"What is the next step for both parties?  Is there a hidden hand orchestrating these events?  Despite all the unanswered questions, we should prepare ourselves to witness only more of these happenings.  This is Leliana Nightingale, reporting in."_

I shut my phone off.  "You need to be careful out there,  _lethallan,_ " Solas spoke after a few moments of heavy silence.  "Though the discontent here is not as severe as it is in Orlais, every elf across Thedas will feel repercussions of some sort.  You are a Dalish woman in a place where prestige is almost held exclusively by humans.  And with the gala approaching, any misstep may ignite disaster."

I wanted to smirk and play it off cool, but I knew just how truthful Solas' words were.  "I will," I promised.  "And you'll be too?  You're an elf and a mage.  You're double-oppressed."

"I have gotten by thus far.  You need not worry about me."

My smirk appeared.  "Somebody has to."  

Solas' eyes lit up even though his face remained neutral.  I looked down at my lo mein.  "I should have probably lost my appetite after watching that broadcast, but I honestly haven't.  I'm going to finish this."

"That makes two of us."

We smiled at each other and continued eating.  

-

Sera and I lay on her bed, cans of pop and Taco Bell wrappers strewn everywhere.  "Fockin ridiculous, this.  Red Jennies don't do stuff like all that.  We do little things for little people to make big people pay for big things."  Sera burped loudly and flattened a can on the side of her head.  Yeah.  She could do that.  It was insanely cool.  "Just fix it all, Ally."

"I'm trying," I sighed, and downed another Dorito taco.  "But I'm kind of done of talking about all of that.  Netflix binge?"

"Netflix binge," Sera grinned.  "I fockin love Netflix.  Why it wasn't invented sooner, I dunno."

"What do you mean?"

"Well it hasn't been around for long, yeah.  It just showed up."

I gave her a funny look.  "Sera, Netflix has been around for years."

"Wot?"

We both stared at each other in confusion for several seconds.   _Something isn't right._

Sera's stomach gurgled and she groaned and curled up on her bed.  "Fockin Taco Bell.  Does this to me every time."

"Maybe it wouldn't do it to you if you didn't eat five quesaritos in thirty minutes and downed it with three Baja blasts."

"Shut up you."

I started up Netflix as my friend lay there in misery.  

**_This isn't right._ **

My hand flared with pain, making me hiss and shake it.  "Ouch."

"Wot?  Taco Bell tearing up your stomach too?"

"No.  It's just my hand."

"Well quit having phantom pains and get me some fockin Pepto Bismol out of the medicine cabinet."

"Are you going to drink so much your tongue will turn black?"

"That's the only way, yeah."

I rolled my eyes.

-

"Darling!  You'll never believe what happened!" Dorian sang, twirling me around in his arms the moment I stepped through the door.  

"You denounced homosexuality and finally saw the light through all the sparkles and male genitalia?" I prompted with a sarcastic smirk.

"Come now, let's be realistic here."

"You're right.  Hm."  I tapped my chin in thought.  "Did you make it on the Haven quidditch team?"

Dorian's gaze turned flat.  He sighed woefully.  "Why did I ever think that you would actually  _try_ to take this seriously?"

"What?  It's a disgrace that we have  _magic_ but we don't have any any quidditch!  Like, Dorian, how in the world do you not have flying broomsticks, yet?  How-- _how--_ do you not have owls that send messages?  How--"

"Vivienne finally made a deal with me and is going to have my clothes made and sold in more places."

My hands slapped to the sides of my cheeks and I jumped up and down on my feet.  "Oh!  Oh!  Dorian!  This is spectacular!  This is grand!  This is wonderful!"

He rolled his eyes as I continued to spew adjectives.  "I'm going to finish up my winter line, then she's going to take care of the rest.  I'm still going to be the only one who sells magically infused clothes, but that's a minor detail.  Still--oh, would you  _listen?_ "  He gripped my wrists and brought me back down.  I sniggered but remained silent.  "What I was going to  _ask_ you is if you wanted to wear one of my dresses for that gala of yours."

"Well of _course_.  And this time I'm paying you."

"Pay me with what?  The money that  _I_ pay you with?"

I snorted.  "What I mean is that I'm going to have Varric pay you."

"That's more like it.  But no.  You and Varric were the ones who convinced Madam de Fer to even look in my direction; this is my thank-you gift.  And I promise that this will be the last one."

I couldn't help but smile.  "Dorian.  Have I ever told you that you're the best?"

"Not nearly enough," he winked.  

"Hey, I'm going to be bringing in the boy that I'll be performing at the gala with tomorrow and buy him some clothes.  He literally has nothing to dress in."

"Yes, do that, please.  I don't nearly get to dress people up enough..."  Dorian trailed off, his eyes moving over to the door.  "Oh, dear.  This won't be good for business," he muttered, then quickly strode to the front.  After a confused moment, I followed.  

All of the customers in the store were staring out the window with concern as they watched a man getting arrested by Templars.  "Shit," I whispered next to Josephine.  Dorian pushed out the front door and onto the street.  When he tried to approach one of the Templars, he was pushed back.  "Dorian, you need to get out of there," I said, and soon found my feet carrying me to go and intervene.

The situation was rapidly becoming dangerous.  The bell on the door  _dinged_ as I stepped out into the cold.  The wind bit at my face and hands and I said as I gripped his arm.  He looked down at me, anger making his face look foreign and slightly scary.  

_I hadn't seen such a look since the confrontation he had with his father at the Gull and the Lantern._

My hand and chest began to ache.  I ignored it. "Let's go," I spoke quietly.  "You aren't going to risk ending up in the same situation."

"This isn't right," Dorian said through gritted teeth.  "We need to do something!"

"We will.   _I_ will," I promised with a reassuring squeeze.  I pulled out my phone from my back pocket and started recording.  "Hey!" one of the Templars shouted upon seeing me do so.  "This is none of your business.  Get lost, knife-ear."

I chose not to respond.  I could have come up with a million snarky and witty responses, but that would have discredited me if I was planning on doing what I was.  Also, it may have revealed my identity.  And with my position in everything, I would prefer not to have that.  Instead, I took a step back and expanded the view even more.  The mage was a young man, normal in every aspect and undoubtedly terrified.  One eye was already closing shut from most likely being hit.  

"What did you do?" Dorian asked the mage.  

"I-I-I didn't do anything!" he immediately cried.  Tears formed in his eyes.  "I was just walking down the street a-a-and they stopped me!"

"Shut up," the second Templar growled, slamming the mage's face into the hood of their car.  He cried out again.  

"Alright, enough, you two," said the first Templar as he approached us.  "Get back inside.  This is Templar business."

"No," Dorian spat.  "This is the world's business."

The Templar scowled and swatted the phone in my hands down.  "Don't let them t-take me away to a Circle!" the man pleaded desperately.  As soon as the enforcer's back was turned to me I continued to record the mage being shoved roughly into the back of their vehicle.  My heart wrenched with helplessness and guilt.  I should do something more.  Here I was, just recording, when I should be defending and saving him.  Nobody should be treated with such brutality.  

Once the Templars drove off with their sobbing victim in the back, I shut my phone off.  Dorian looked livid.  "You should have let me do something," he growled.  

"Like what?  Take out your own staff and attack the Templars?  Dorian, you'd be made Tranquil for that, and that mage would most likely have been, as well.  The system is corrupt.  When such corruptness in in place, anything goes.  You cannot fight unfairness because the repercussions will only amplify, especially when you're the ones being treated poorly.  But come on; let's go back inside.  I didn't record all that just to replay it and stew over everything to find some secret weakness.  I  _know_ their weakness.  It can be everybody's, if played in a certain light."

Dorian twirled his mustache.  "Why, Alaran, are you going to be manipulative?"

We turned to head back in.  "It's only manipulation if you're trying to hide something.  What we're going to do will be bringing things to attention, that's all."

I sat down at a table in the back and attached the video to an email.  In the recipient's bar I typed in,  _l.nightingale@onn.com._

In the subject's box I simply typed:

_Make this big, and you will have more access to information concerning both rebellions than anybody in journalism._

_-L_

Then I pressed  _send._

Leliana Nightingale wouldn't know that it was Alaran Lavellan, college student and classical music major, that was sending the video and the promise.  I sent it through the joint email account I had with Briala, Solas, Morrigan, Dorian, and a few others.  I had run it past them before I did so, and they all agreed that it was a good move.  We had been keeping an eye on the rising journalist ever since her report on the elven rebellion in Orlais, and her follow-up articles concerning it.  To have somebody in the center of media on our side...

Well.  I don't think I really need to explain myself.

I did have trouble deciding on whether or not I should leave an initial of either my first or last name.  If I left the letter A, it kind of sounded like  _Pretty Little Liars._ If I left the letter L, then it would sound like  _Death Note._ And if I left the letters A.L., then it would basically be the nickname Varric called me by.  So I sat there for a good few minutes on how mysterious I could make myself sound.  I couldn't just leave no signature of any kind; that would be disrespectful to everybody involved in conspiracies and networks.  But seeing as I really liked  _Death Note_ and I didn't like  _Pretty Little Liars,_ I went with my last name initial.  It made me curl up in the chair and have a sudden craving for sweets.  

Speaking of sweets...

I texted Solas.  

_Come get doughnuts with me after work._

_Or cake._

_Or pie._

_Or canolis._

_TIRAMISU._

_Come get tiramisu with me._

_Swol Solas:  
As much as I would love to, unfortunately I cannot.  I will be working late, tonight.  _

_That's alright!_

_I'll just come and bring you stuff at work._

_Or is that against policy or something?_

_Your lab is pretty secretive enough as it is._

_Swol Solas:  
No, it is not against policy.  But it is also not necessary.  _

_Yes it is._

_Haven't you noticed, Solas?_

_I like you._

_Like like you._

_It would make me happy to bring you something._

For a solid minute I didn't get a reply.  That made me nervous, and I started to type that I was sorry and if he honestly didn't want me to come over I wouldn't and we would forget all about it, but before I could send anything Solas replied.

 _Swol Solas:  
_ _And I like you, as well.  It would make me happy to see you this evening._

_Swol Solas:  
Tell the receptionist that you have come to see me.  She will send you up._

I grinned from ear-to-ear, and had to glance around to make sure nobody was in the room to see me get all giddy.  I hurriedly texted back.  

_Good._

_Really good._

_I'll see you in an hour and a half._

_Swol Solas:  
I'm looking forward to it._

_Question._

_What would you like?_

_Swol Solas:  
Surprise me._

_Will do._

I set my phone down on the table and covered my eyes, squealing quietly and stamping my feet excitedly on the floor.  I mean, I knew he liked me, but to actually see that he  _did..._ it was awesome.  Purely, simply awesome.  

Unfortunately, that meant work went by extremely slowly.  And with Dorian in a dour mood from the Templar encounter, it wasn't as fun as it typically was.  As soon as the clock hit 5:30 I shoved my coat and hat on and bid farewell to Dorian and Josie.  I went 37 mph on the 35 mph road and pulled into  _Lace's Bakery Shoppe._ She and I exchanged banter while Iron Bull got four eclairs and a fairly large slice of tiramisu ready to go.  I set it on the floor of the front passenger seat and continued to the tall, sleek building that was the Inquisition Laboratory.  

The receptionist told me what floor Solas was on and the room he was in, poorly trying to hide the surprise on her face that basically screamed,  _"What's a young, attractive, insanely charming Dalish woman planning on doing with the stuffy, rude, intimidating Solas?"_ Or among other things.

My foot tapped to a song in my head.  I was glad I had dressed nice.  I had to wear all black, of course, but I had chosen a clingy black long-sleeved shirt and black leggings with the same boot wedges I had worn at the concert at the Herald's Rest.  Thrown over was my red wool coat.  

When the elevator door opened I was expecting to be hit with lab equipment and having everything look like Oscorp, but it didn't.  It was mainly just a bunch of cubicles.  But Solas was a big-shot.  He had an office of his own that was against the edge of the room.  People glanced up at me as I passed, but it was with little interest.  Well, that was the case until I stopped at Solas' door and gave it a short rap.  In an instant I felt every single eye on the floor drive into my back.  I knew that once I stepped inside the entire place would erupt into gossiping whispers.   _Oh, Solas.  Why am I not surprised that you're one of those people._

His office was much like his home; neat and orderly, with a few paintings dotting the wall and shelves full of books.  The large window that would have revealed a nice view of Haven was covered by blinds.  

"Good evening, Master Fenharel," I chimed as I plopped the box full of Harding's sweets on his desk.  

"Good evening, Mistress Lavellan," Solas replied.  I shrugged off my coat and put it on the back of the chair before sitting in it.  

I opened the box.  "I couldn't decide between tiramisu and eclairs."

"So you got both."

"Yes."

"A wise choice," Solas commended, plucking an eclair and taking a bite.  His eyes fluttered at the delicious taste.   _"Ma serannas,_ Alaran."

"No problem," I winked.  The tips of his ears turned red.

Oh, I was horrible.  I was a horrible person.  Because, for some reason, I thought it would be pretty funny to seductively eat my eclair.  Except, I did it so subtly that Solas would have no idea if I was doing it on purpose or if that was just how I ate.  I caught his eyes lingering more than once on my mouth, but I flawlessly pretended to ignore it.  

Again.  I was horrible.

But I still didn't regret anything.  

"So," I drawled as I switched over to eating the tiramisu.  "What is it that you have to work late on?"

Solas swallowed the third eclair he was on.  "Mm.  Just going over some data.  We have been researching the eluvians for quite some time, and have gained many insightful...Alaran?  Is everything alright?"

"Have you stepped through them?  Have you been to the Crossroads?"

His brows furrowed slightly and I earned a puzzled look.  "What do you mean by that?"

I hesitated.   _What the heck was I talking about?_   "The eluvians...they're portals, aren't they?  That's the reason you're researching them, aren't you?" I questioned.

A sudden chuckle sprang out from Solas.  "No," he answered.  "They are merely ancient artifacts that possess old magic we're trying to combine with the new.  And we are close very close to doing just that."

_**You're wrong.** _

"Oh, really?  Do tell," I said, leaning forward and taking a playful bite of the dessert to hide my shaking left hand.

"I imagine it would most likely bore you."

"I promise you, Solas, it won't."

The elf's eyes lit up.  "Very well."

-

He would have left the office not long after his intended work hours were over, but with Alaran there Solas didn't get finished until ten.  Then the two of them walked out of the building together, never missing a beat in talking.  Alaran was exceptional; her mind was constantly parrying Solas' to the point where he thought that, at times, perhaps she was smarter than he was.  But she was never without charm and tact, and he found that her smirk was endearing and kind rather than infuriating like he first thought it to be.  

Solas' heart was racing as he took Alaran to her car.  The night was frigid and clear, and their breaths appeared in front of them.  "Oh," Alaran said softly, tilting her head up to the cloudy night sky.  A small smile flitted across her dark lips.  "Would ya look at that.  It's snowing."

It was.  Impulsively, Solas took out the hat that resided in one of his large, inside pockets he specifically had Dorian tailor for him.  He pulled out the mad bomber hat he wore on occasion.  "Here," he said, stopping Alaran and putting it atop her head.  She giggled as he gave it a few final tugs to ensure that it was still in place.  It ended up being lopsided and slightly too large for her, but she was beaming.

"How do I look?" Alaran asked.  They started walking again.  Solas couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Beautiful."

"Oh?  Do I only look that way when I'm wearing oversized hats?" she said without skipping a beat.  

"No.  But my answer will always be the same if you ever ask that again."

They stopped at her dark blue Nissan Versa.  Alaran tilted her chin up to Solas.  Her violet eyes practically glowed, and her long eyelashes collected snowflakes for keepsake.  "Can I ask you another question?"

"Of course."   _Do not feel like vomiting.  Do **not** feel like vomiting.  _

"If you wanted to kiss me, would you?"

"It would depend."

Her eyebrow lifted upwards.  "On what?"

"I would kiss you only if you wanted to be kissed."

Alaran's lips parted.  Solas' heart thundered in his ears.  "And if I did?"

In one movement Solas had both hands cupping the sides of Alaran's impossibly smooth cheeks and resting just above her angular jawline.  The fennec fur lining of the hat tickled the back of his hands.  Her lips were soft and full and he could still taste a hint of tiramisu.  Solas felt Alaran's own hands slip underneath his jacket and wrap around his waist.  His breath left him, but hers kept him alive.  

 _Something_ twisted and came to life within Solas.  It wasn't anything physical;  _that_ would have been incredibly awkward.  No.  It was...it was more of a feeling along the lines of his soul igniting and reaching out for Alaran's.  If there ever could be a thing such as that.  Perhaps Solas was just getting ahead of himself.  

The kiss itself lasted only a few moments before they both pulled away.  Alaran grinned.  It was not a usual sight.  She did plenty of smirking and smiling and laughing, but to just watch her grin was a sight to be held.  "Goodnight, Solas."

He couldn't stop himself from taking her cold hand and lightly pressing his lips to the back of it.  "Goodnight, Alaran."

It was only when Solas was in his car and had it started did he lean his head back against the headrest and broadly grin himself.  He could still feel the tingle of Alaran's lips on his, and the butterflies in his stomach hadn't yet settled.  

After a minute of trying to get his head back on straight, Solas finally made the journey home.  He hardly remembered the drive.  But he would never forget what just happened.

-

I sat on the ledge of Inquisition Laboratory's rooftop, eating a double cheeseburger and watching with disgusting interest as Solas and Alaran decided to lock lips in the night, near a lamppost, with the snow falling.  Ugh.  It was so damn romantic.  Freaking sickening.  And good.  Well.  For them, anywas.  I knew they would be drawn to each other, but still a small part of me worried that they wouldn't.  Then it would be  _really_ awkward when they got back to the real world only to know that in this fake one they had gone with different people.  But they were soul-touched, or whatever the flip you wanted to call it.  The chances of that happening were super slim.  

I balled up the greasy wrapper and chucked it behind me, then picked up my fountain drink full of pink lemonade and 7-up.  Watching them begin to fall in love all over again made me miss Wade.  I wished he was here with me.  Then we could throw our cheeseburger wrappers at Al and Solas together and ruin their touching moments whenever they had any.

Oh, wait.

Duh.

I forgot I was all-powerful.

Wade really could just come here.

Sweet.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, they kissed when it was snowing. How cliche. But do I care? Absolutely not. It was so sweet that my teeth hurt after writing it. No ragrets, though. No ragrets.
> 
> And I don't know exactly when, but there will be a glorious rampage by the Wilsons here soon.


	12. Aches and Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lime green suits and biscotti. Not together, thank goodness.

Dorian, Josephine and I stared at Cole, who stood there motionlessly.  

I tapped my chin.  "Something is just..."

"Not right," Dorian finished as he twirled his mustache.

"The fabric feels like an embrace from the Fade," Cole said absently, rubbing the hem of his suit jacket between his fingers.  "It's not here, but it is everywhere."

"Well, it  _does_ have magic infused within the fabric," Dorian explained as he circled around the spirit-turned-boy.

_No.  He's not a spirit.  He's just a boy.  A nice, odd boy._

**_Time is running out time is running out can't you feel everything closing in on you--_ **

I clenched my aching hand into a fist.  "Aha!  I know what's wrong!" Dorian suddenly shouted as he clapped his hands together.  "Cole, take off the jacket, please."  He did as he was told.  "Now put this on."  Cole slung on a platinum-colored vest over his white shirt and black tie.

"It's good," I commented, "but..." I snapped my fingers as I tried to come up with what was still missing.

"His hair," said Josephine.  I pointed a finger at her.

 _"Yes."_ I hopped up onto the raised level Cole was standing on.  "May I?" I asked before I touched him.  

"You will do it anyways."  Cole didn't speak like it was a bad thing; his voice was factual and neutral.  I shrugged and nodded in agreement.

"Pretty much.  I was just giving you a warning."  I began to run my hands through his loose blond hair, parting it and pushing it back until we could clearly see his pale blue eyes.  "There," I finally said after deeming the new look good enough to be done with.  "We should use some gel or something when the time comes, but now you don't look like a teenage waiter at a wedding reception.  You actually look...handsome.  Yay for you, Cole!"

"Yay for me," he said with the barest of smiles.  Then it disappeared.  "But I cannot pay for this.  Thank you for dressing me up, though."

"Don't worry about it, Cole.  I got you covered," I smiled.  Surprise flashed across his innocent and passive face.

"N-no.  Please do not do that for me.  Y-you barely know me."

"Consider it an investment.  When you're famous and well on your way, then you can pay me back," I smiled.  "And besides, I get the employee discount."

As Dorian began going off on some tangent and Josephine moved to the counter to help some customers, Cole hugged me.  It was awkward, but holy freak was it familiar.  I automatically hugged him back.   _"You need to win,"_ he whispered in my ear.  I stiffened.

**_Everything is beating down around you the pressure is building and squeezing all the life out of everything.  You need to win so others may live, because otherwise the whole world will perish.  You are Alaran Lavellan, Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste.  You need to become the Wielder of--_ **

"Hey!  Babe!  Look at this sweet tux!" 

I broke away from Cole and turned to the nearby customers to see if they needed any help.  The boy wandered off as if he were almost in a daze.  It turned out to be none other than the woman with the Mohawk, and another man.  She was still wearing the long black trench coat I had seen her in last, but underneath she had on galaxy leggings with cats on them and a crop top, revealing a smooth toned stomach.  It was winter.  In Haven.  How she managed to wear that without getting cold was beyond me.  Maybe she was a mage.

The man beside her was, for some reason, wearing a Deadpool costume.  He just had his mask off.   _Now why would you even wear something that real-looking if you didn't have the proper makeup on your face to make you look how Deadpool does._ He had a nice head of blond hair that was cropped close to the sides and longer on the top, but not enough to be a hipster look.  It was almost militaristic.  Chocolate brown eyes looked fondly at the woman, and a mischievous, almost crazy smile splayed across his tanned face.  "Ask them if they have it in lime green.  Ooh, and see if they have any assless chaps to go with it.  I have fancy tastes," he said as he examined one of Dorian's best-selling suits.  Huh.  He even had the katanas.  And I really hoped those guns were just props.  

"Okay."  The woman turned her emerald green eyes to me and flashed a dazzling grin.  "Hello again, pal!  Do you by chance have this in--"

"No," I cut off, but not unkindly.

"Aw," said the man dejectedly.  "That sucks ass.  Not literally, though, 'cause that can only happen if there are assless chaps involved."

"Tell me about it.  We have to send away so many people with broken hearts because we don't want to watch the world burn from lime green suits and matching assless chaps," I  _tsked_ in mock-sympathy.   _  
_

The man's grin only broadened.  "Whoa.  Babe.  You didn't tell me she was a smart-ass.  I like it."

I raised an eyebrow.  The woman looked at me, silently saying,  _Dis bitch next to me better shut up._ "Don't mind him.  He's just mentally unstable.  But we actually have a thing we need to go to here in a short while.  Can you hook us up?"

I smiled and said, "Of course.  Are you shopping here on the first floor or on the second floor?"

The costumed Deadpool put an arm around the woman.  He had to be really tall to be able to do that to her; she had to be at least six feet in height.  "What do we look like, bums?" he demanded to know.

"Well, I kind of do," the woman muttered back.

"No.  You look hot," he growled lowly in her ear, then gave it a playful nip.  She sighed and rolled her eyes in a perfect formation.

"I know.  Sorry, Alaran.  I'd say that he's usually not this bad, but this is actually the most respectful he's been in any public establishment in a long time."

_How did she know my...?_

Oh.  Right.  Name tag.

"Don't worry about it," I smirked.  "Let's get you guys suited up."

-

I looked down at the neat bundle of cash sitting on the counter.  It added up to approximately one thousand, five hundred dollars.  "That whole thing was..." Josephine began, but couldn't finish.

"No need to tell me twice," I said with the slight shake of my head.  "Honestly, if anything tops whatever that just was, Dorian needs to give me a pay raise."

It was strange, though; the whole entire time I was near the two people--whose names I never got--the Vagina Scar didn't hurt.  And it had been hurting all the time, lately.  I expected to have some kind of episode, soon.  I just hoped it wouldn't be severe.  

"So," I said, picking up the cash.  "Should we split this and not tell Dorian?-- _Kidding, kidding._ Please don't give me the Death Glare, Josie."

-

"Have you ever nerded out so hard that it, like, physically  _hurts?"_ I asked Solas through a mouthful of biscotti I had dipped in hot chocolate.  His lips quirked upward before he moved his eyes from the book he was reading and met mine.  While one hand held the biscotti, the other scribbled down the violin piece I was composing.  It was going to be a lame tune; I didn't really know where I was going with it.  But I always kept spare note pages around so I could jot down things when I felt the urge to.  

"From time to time.  I suppose I only worsen the feeling because I tend to keep it to myself."

"Okay, good, so I'm not the only one.  Because today in one of my classes we were talking about space and the universe and everything, and I swear there were about a million times when I could have dropped a Star Trek reference, but I couldn't because I knew that if I did everybody would look at me like I was weird."

"And did that stop you?"

"Yes--well, no.  But we were in this giant lecture hall, so I had to mumble it all under my breath so I wouldn't disrupt anything.  But there was nobody sitting beside me, so all in all it was good.  But the problem was that I started making myself laugh so hard that...why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nobody was sitting beside you?"

"For some reason some continue to think that sitting next to an elf is a sin against Andraste," I snorted, and waved my biscotti hand dismissively.  Solas' jaw clenched.  "Oh, don't go getting all puffed up.  No matter how good or fair the world may be, there will always be assholes.  That's just a simple truth.  I know it's difficult to comprehend how anybody could  _dislike_ me when they don't even know how amazing I am, but hey.  Not everybody will be blessed with me in their life.  So consider yourself lucky," I winked, and popped the rest of the biscotti in my mouth.  I then gently kicked his leg with my foot from underneath the table we had taken seat in.   _Lace's Bakery Shoppe_ was busy, as usual, but we had gotten a table in the corner by a window to maintain some distance between us and the crowd.  

Solas huffed, but any anger within him dissipated.  "Besides," I continued, "sometimes I have to restrain myself when I look at you and I imagine you in the place of  _One Punch Man."_

Unfortunately, I had said that when he was taking a drink of his coffee.  Solas choked on it and set his cup back down so he could cough violently into his arm.  Instead of being worried and asking if he was okay, I leaned back in my chair and threw my head back to laugh.  After a few moments I gasped loudly and jolted forward.   _"Solas you have to be Saitama for Halloween next year please Solas please!"_

"I-I am- _cough cough--_ incapable of-- _cough--_ answering that right now-- _cough cough cough--_ _vhenan."_

I couldn't stop both my eyebrows from shooting up towards my hairline.  Solas continued to cough, unaware of what he had just called me.  I let it be, just this once.  Honestly, I really didn't want him to keel over dead from being hit with a double-whammy from Yours Truly.  

When Solas had calmed his coughing fit I moved my upper torso across the table and kissed him on the cheek.  His pointed ears turned a light shade of pink.  "I like you," I whispered with a smile.  "I think I'll keep you."

-

Hawke was walking.  Walking was refreshing.

Especially when Anders had the car.

He used some magic to heat his hands up as he started hitting up Varric and Al and the rest of the gang to see when they were going to get together to celebrate his return to their presence.  They probably didn't even have any lives when he was gone.  Nope.  Only boredom and constant whining about when he was going to be back.

But Garrett knew that, deep down, he only wanted to be around everybody because he was afraid what he would do if he was by himself.

The smell from Harding's bakery called to him.   _Hawke, Hawke, come eat what's insiiiiiiiiiide,_ it sang tantalizingly.  He looked over at it from across the street.  He had some extra money; Al and Varric would love some of their doughnuts.  Well, they  _would_ love them if he didn't take it upon himself to eat them all before he reached their apartment.  She should be out of class, today, and he doubted she had work until later on in the afternoon.  Together the two of them would bring ultimate epicness.  Epicness of such epic proportions that...

...That...

On the other side of the bakery window, Alaran was leaning across one of the tables and kissing that elven mage, Solas, on the cheek.  She then retreated back just enough so she could smile at him affectionately.  He reached up and traced his knuckle along her jawline.  Alaran's lips moved and the two of them bowed their heads together in shared laughter.   Even from his distance, Hawke could clearly see how brightly her violet eyes were illuminated.  Solas' eyes were in a similar state.

He stood on the sidewalk for several moments longer than originally intended.  After the small shake of his head and a forced smile, Hawke continued onward, trying to ignore the ache in his chest and the dryness in his mouth.  

They could still be friends, he and Al.   _Psh._ Of course they could!  Why would Hawke want to ruin such a great friendship?  And why in the  _world_ would he expect anything more than a friendship?  Friendships were great!  Especially with Al!  And hey, Solas was a cool guy.  They were both smart, talented elves with a passion for progression.  The ultimate power couple!  They would be gallivanting across Thedas to release the bonds on mages and elves alike while he and Varric sat on the couch and relaxed with a couple of beers and a box of pizza.

Except, he only got pizza because it was one of Alaran's favorite foods.  Granted, they all did that.  But especially him.

Hawke refused to acknowledge that he had been hurt.  He had to stay happy.  He absolutely  _had_ to stay happy.

Because, if not, he didn't know what hole in his mind he would fall into.  And some holes were darker and deeper than others, with little chance of escape.

That terrified Hawke.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter! Honestly, I was surprised I cranked this out in one day. Well, more like in one evening and night. It's pretty late, right now. 
> 
> Hallah Lynne and Deadpool showed up! I didn't think I would have them appear as quickly as they did. Still no glorious rampage, but I assure you, that will come. This is barely the surface of their shenanigans. And oh, when I wrote that last bit from Hawke's perspective, I literally whispered, "I hate myself" before typing up a storm. I've always figured that Hawke has suffered from a slight form of depression, but so few actually see it because he's so happy and outgoing. We saw a little bit of it in the first part of Wait, What? but here I kind of wanted to highlight the fact that even some of our heroes are just as human and imperfect and still heartbreakingly beautiful as we all are. 
> 
> Okay. This is so selfish of me to ask, but I'm dying for some fanart. I have so many ideas of what I could draw, but for some reason whenever I try to draw things end up looking like a five-year-old did it, and that's me being kind to myself. trulynocturnal on Tumblr has already done a couple of epic drawings that I absolutely love, so you should check her out. My own Tumblr for spamming feed with Dragon Age and other nerdy things is i-dropped-the-chief. And if you are like me and are artistically handicapped, you could still ask me questions about good ol' Al and her Inner Circle. If you want. I'm not trying to peer pressure you. *darts eyes around nervously* so um yeah.
> 
> But no matter what, you all need to stay lovely.


	13. The Egg at 20,000 Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al and Solas are called to Val Royeaux. He doesn't do well with planes. She doesn't do well with being normal. 
> 
> And you guys! You guys! Look at the fanart! Just loOK AT IT! Ahh! I'm so happy! trulynocturnal on Tumblr based it off the scene a couple chapters back when Al and Solas had their "first" kiss. And I mean come on how could I not share it with all of you?

 

 

Varric heard a loud gasp coming from the living room, despite the fact that he was basically on the opposite side of the apartment, in his office and had the door closed.  Not a moment later he heard feet slapping against the hardwood floor and excited breathing.  Varric let the pen he was writing with hover above the paper so when the door burst open he wouldn't accidentally make any mistakes.  

The door did not, in fact, burst open.  Instead there was a loud  _thump,_ followed by a  _hng_ as Al slammed into the other side of the wood.   _"Vaaaarrriiiicccc,"_ she cried lamely several seconds later.

"Yeah, Al?" he chuckled as he went back to writing.  She had been right; he did need glasses, and now that he was wearing some it was like a brand new world.  The door calmly swung open and Al stood there, a hand on the shoulder she typically led with while turning and a comical frown on her face.  

"My hand slipped when I was turning your doorknob and I ended up running into it," she sulked.  Varric tried to wipe the grin on his face off with his hand, but failed.  

"I'm sorry, Al."

"No you're not."

"No, I'm not."  She plopped unceremoniously into the chair on the opposite side of his desk.  "I was coming to tell you something..." Al's face illuminated immediately and the porcelain hand on her shoulder dropped in excitement.  "Oh!  Yeah!  Varric, you're never going to believe it!  You know the gala that I'm performing at?  The one where if I play well all the fancy knobs will be giving the school money?  Huh?  You know that one, right?"

"As a matter of fact, I do.  In case you've forgotten, Vivienne and I are some of the fancy knobs that'll be there."

She waved him off.  "Whatever.  Your integrity isn't important, right now, and we both know that Vivienne isn't just a fancy knob; she's  _The_ Fancy Knob.  But that's not the point!"  Al braced the edge of the desk and leaned forward.  "Varric,  _King Alistair_ is going to be there!   _King Alistair Theirin!"_

Varric couldn't help but laugh as he asked, "Do you still have all his posters from his days as a famous Warden in your room?"  It made sense why she was so excited, now.

Al made a face at him.  "No, no I do not."

"Not anywhere I can see, you mean."

She rolled her eyes and head, groaning loudly.  "I tell you the King of Ferelden is going to be at the gala and you automatically jump to that?  You know, sometimes you can be a really big pain in the ass."

"So you've mentioned, but I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," Varric said with an easy grin.  

"You look like a grandpa with those glasses," Al snapped, but it was without venom.  He had been the victim of said venom only once, when they were up on those Maker-forsaken battlements with Hawke.  It was bad enough he was freezing, but to have Al--

Varric blinked.  Shit.  He hated when weird things like that popped up in his head.  They never made any sense.  Not like he bothered to make sense of them, anyways.  It was better to just pretend that they never happened in the first place.

She looked down at her phone and her face became emotionless.  "Varric," Al said absently, "how would you feel if I went to Val Royeaux for a couple of days?"

"You going to go see that Nightingale lady?"

Her eyes flashed, but nothing else.  Varric sighed and leaned back in his chair.  Andraste's ass, since when did she look so grown up?  "I thought that you would make the reveal of you knowing what I was up to somehow grander," Al eventually said, pinning him down with a violet enhanced gaze.

He gave a similar thing right back.  "So did I.  But plans change."  He stifled the breath he wanted to take in and continued.  "Al, this stuff...it's not going to get any prettier.  The rumors I've been hearing, the things that I've read..."

"They're not good.  I'm well aware.  But Briala wants me to go and speak with Leliana Nightingale because of my background and my current position in society."

"I didn't think Briala liked being that upfront and honest with people," Varric said before he could stop himself. 

Al didn't take offense.  She shrugged.  "No, she's not.  I'm thinking that it's a test of some kind.  If I misstep and do something Briala doesn't like, she'll just set me loose and proclaim to have nothing to do with me, and I'll just look like a college student getting in over my head and dealing with things I shouldn't be."

"And if you play your cards right?"  _Like he knew she would._

The Smirk appeared.  "Good things.  I'm hoping I'll get to use my 'I'm not a politician.  I'm a queen' phrase."

"That's not even your phrase to begin with," Varric said, smiling so he could hide the worry building in his chest.

"Shh, nobody needs to know," Al said, putting a finger to her lips.  "So can I go, Varric?"

He sighed and shrugged once.  "Hey, you're an adult.  I can't stop you.  Maker, when have I ever really been able to stop you?"

"True, but I would much rather leave having your approval.  And also your money."

"Oh, for the--you can't even look  _humbled_ saying that?" Varric said exasperatedly.  Alaran snickered and slithered over to wrap her bony arms around his shoulders and neck, nuzzling the side of his face.  

"Mmmmmm Varric I love you, especially when you help me go to another country where I'll be doing some espionage," she cooed.  He snorted.  

"Yeah, yeah.  Are you going by yourself?"

Al's pause confirmed the dread he had been keeping at bay.  "No.  Solas is coming with me."

"Just the two of you?"

"Just the two of us.  Don't worry, though; I'm bringing lots and lots of condoms."

She pealed with laughter and tore away from Varric before he could swat her.  Her feet carried her back to the door.  "There's a flight Thursday evening that we need to be on.  I'll send the email with all the details to you," Al called over her shoulder as she walked out.  Once Varric was by himself he slumped forward and softly banged his head on the desk.  

Yeah.  Al would be the death of him.

-

I jumped up and down as I pushed my carry-on into the overhead compartment in the airplane.  "If you would allow me..." Solas prompted, but I made a noise for him to be quiet.  

"I-- _huff--_ I got it-- _huff huff--_ there!"  I wiped my hands together and sat triumphantly down in my seat next to the window.  Solas took his place beside me.  He was still dressed in his business clothes, while I had taken on a more casual approach with gray cable knit leggings and a navy blue cardigan, a white shirt underneath, and a clunky black infinity scarf piled around my neck.  "I'm excited," I said aloud as more passengers continued to slowly shuffle in.

"About seeing Val Royeaux?  As am I."

"No, I mean I'm excited about flying," I smirked, nearly pressing my nose against the small port.  I could see distant lights twinkling past the runway.  "I love flying.  Especially the turbulence.  It's like the wind is dancing with you."

Solas scoffed.  "Or that it is trying to strike you down out of the sky."

I turned back to him.  "Was that a hint of negativity I heard in your voice?"

 He looked at me coolly before giving a short sigh.  "Forgive me.  I am...not fond of flying.  That is all."

"Well," I said quietly, confidentially, "if we do crash and the plane is about to go down, I'll save you."

"Oh?  Save me how?" he asked back playfully.  

"I'll call on the Dalish gods of old and pray for them to keep us from harm.  And they will."  I said it with such conviction it momentarily caught Solas off-guard before a deadpan expression spanned across his face.  

"You are amusing."  The inflection of the statement suggested otherwise.

I pulled out one of my books and began to read the assigned chapters I would miss in class the next day because I was off being a renegade.  And Solas was the rene-EGG. 

I was just  _too damn funny._

"May I ask what it is you are reading?" Solas said as he took out his sleek computer from his messenger bag.  

 _"The Vintage Guide to Classical Music,"_ I replied, turning the cover over so he could see the front of the book.  "It's a good read.  I'm only skimming over the it because as long as I can see the entire pages I can find them in my noggin later on."

"You have an eidetic memory?"  Solas looked genuinely intrigued at the discovery.  "I did not know that."

"Yeppers.  It can come in pretty handy.  But it can also be pretty lame because I can't ever say 'I forgot' to those who know I have it because then they'll know that I'm lying," I explained.  That made Solas chuckle.

"I can imagine it would be difficult," he said, but there was subtle sassiness to his voice.  I nudged him with my shoulder.  

"And what about you?  Are there any secret talents or skills you have?  Besides drumming?  Which, by the way, I want to see you play, again."

Solas was quiet for a few seconds before answering hesitantly but smoothly, "I suppose you could consider me a fair painter."

"Whoa.  Hold up.  You paint?"  The pieces clicked together and my jaw dropped in excitement at the realization.  "Those paintings at your house and in your office...they're  _yours,_ aren't they?"  I gripped his forearm and moved until my nose was only a few inches from his cheek.  "Solas.  Those.  Paintings.  Are.  Amazing." _  
_

The tips of his ears turned pink, but his eyes lit up.  I loved it when I did that to them.   _"Ma serannas,_ Alaran," he said lowly.  "You flatter me."  I smiled and kissed him on the cheek.  

"You and I both know we're above flattery."  

I buckled up and continued to look over my book.  I had linked my arm with Solas' because I couldn't hold his hand when he was typing on his laptop.  I chose to ignore the inkling of claustrophobia that wanted me to take notice of it.    My head eventually leaned against his shoulder, and I felt him relax an inch.  

Unfortunately, that relaxation vanished when the airplane began to move on the tarmac.   While I paid the departure no mind, Solas immediately tensed up and looked straight ahead.  He put his laptop away and firmly clasped his hands in his lap.  Without speaking, I snaked my own scarred, porcelain one and wormed it between his.  There was barely a pause before Solas laced his fingers through mine and squeezed it tightly.

While my spirit soared when the airplane launched into the air and ascended into the night sky, Solas sunk further down in his seat.  He had closed his eyes and was forcefully steadying his breathing.  

_He wore a similar expression when I did a handstand on the balcony that one time--_

"It will only be an hour and a half," I said, hoping to support Solas in some way.  "It'll be over before you know it.  But I was watching this miniepisode of  _The Walking Dead_ and there was this one guy who got bit and he was on an airplane and--"

"Alaran?"

"Sorry," I winced with a sheepish smile.  "Talking about that stuff probably wouldn't help your nerves.  I _could_ talk about how many bacteria they found on one of these tray tables--"

"No."

"--I could talk about the likelihood of the plane going down--"

"No."

"--I could reenact that one old  _Twilight Zone_ episode with William Shatner and that sky-bear dude peeling off the metal from the airplane."  I turned to the window, doing my best panicked Shatner voice.  "T-there's something on the wing!" I exclaimed as I peered out into the darkness.  I whipped my head back around to Solas, who had his eyes opened and was smiling wryly at my wide-eyed, scared expression.  "Solas, there's something on the wing!"

"I'll take your word for it," he said, not moving an inch.  "But you--"

The airplane trembled as it hit a gust of wind.  Solas made a low, stifled, frightened noise in the back of his throat and closed his eyes shut once more.  His grip on my hand only tightened.  "Hey," I said after I brought up his hand to press a kiss to it.  "Just keep holding onto me, okay?"

"I intend to," Solas muttered as he rested his head against the seat.  "I apologize in advance if your hand goes numb."

"Don't worry about me, Solas.  My hand survived through the explosion at the Conclave.  I think it can deal with you holding it."  

"That is not funny," he said, glancing at me sidelong.  I smirked.

"Well I didn't ask for your opinion on my amazing sense of humor, so I'll continue to believe I am," I gibed playfully.  Solas shook his head once, snorting.  "Why don't you tell me about your work?"

"I think you are attempting to...what is it?  'Get my mind off of the fact that we are thousands of feet above the earth?'"  

"Oh, something like that.  It's the least you can do to get  _my mind_ off the fact that you're slowly breaking my bones."  I waved our locked hands in the air.  "It's a cycle, Solas.  One that you have to partake in."

The man on the other side of Solas snored loudly.  I leaned over and smiled evilly as an idea popped into my noggin.  "Start talking, Solas, while I do something to that man."

"I will start talking, yes, but only if you remain where you are."

"Oh?  Right here?" I asked, glancing down at the current leaning position I was in.  "Alright, I can do that."  I began digging around in my purse that was at my feet.  Solas exhaled a drawn-out sigh.  My eyes lit up when I found what I had been looking for.   _"Hue hue hue."_

I held up a tube of lipstick and, instead of taking my hand away from Solas' to take the lid off, I put it between my teeth and tugged.  Solas was giving me a flat, disapproving stare.  "Wha?" I said through the plastic object in my mouth.  "I on't ush it ahnywaysh.  Ish ihn't reahlly mah calahrd."  I outstretched my arm and began to slowly and cautiously apply the makeup on the man's gaping lips.  

"He's going to wake up," Solas whispered as he stared nervously at the man.  "Alaran, stop.  He is going to wake up."

"Nah, he wan't," I assured.  "Th Dahlish gahs ahr an mah shi."

"I will pretend you did not just say that."

I snickered and continued.  The man, who was most likely Antivan, only stirred a couple of times, but didn't wake.  Because of his fatigue, he now had on a coat of bright pink lipstick.  I maneuvered the lid back onto the tube and wiped off the leftover saliva on my leggings before slipping it back into my purse.  I smirked triumphantly at my feat.  "Okay, I can't just not take a picture of the amazing thing I just did."  I pulled out my phone and snapped a shot of the poor guy, who was not going to be happy when he looked in a mirror.  I then leaned back far enough so I could get Solas within the portrait.  "Smile like an Orlesian prostitute," I chimed.  His glare only solidified.  "Wow," I muttered as I tapped my thumb on the button to snap the picture, "you really can keep a straight face, can't you?  Though I give it about three and a half out of five stars, only because I know you're forcing yourself to do it.  Ooh, the jaw clench, ooh, the ear twitch."  My thumb pressed wildly on the camera button, taking a million photos of Solas.  "Ooh, the stormy eyes, ooh, the smooth scalp, ooh--"

He deftly swatted my phone out of my hand, where it clattered loudly onto the floor.  The airplane was already quiet; it  _was_ nine-thirty at night, after all.  Many people were already in a similar state as the fellow in our row.  I didn't make it any better by whining in a high pitch.  When I looked back up Solas was poorly hiding a smile.  I narrowed my eyes at him, and leaned in to kiss him lightly on the lips in retaliation.

The rest of the flight went smoothly. I kept Solas preoccupied by talking to him about random things we nerds quickly got excited about, and when the flight landed my hand was only slightly cramped but all sorts of sweaty from being locked with another for an hour and a half.  That was okay, though, because when you like somebody, you tend to take in stride the less-than-utterly-and-completely-hot things about that other person and hope that they reciprocate the same thing to you.  

Solas and I both froze when the Antivan man stirred and yawned, his pink covered mouth widening into a perfect O.  People were turning their heads and glancing at him, then whispering and laughing softly to whoever they were flying with.  He took no notice, however, and when we were completely stopped he was the first one to get out of his seat, grab his carry-on, and wait in the agonizingly slow stream of passengers getting off the plane.  I thought we were in the clear, but the Antivan stifled another yawn with the back of his hand.  When he pulled it away, he saw a perfect imprint of bright pink lipstick.  The look of confusion on his face was priceless and I would have laughed, but he turned his attention to the two elves still trapped in their seats staring back at him.

"He did it!" I yelped, pointing an accusing finger at Solas, who immediately puffed up.  

"Sir," he began, "I apologize for my friend's behavior--"

"Now you're putting the blame on me?" I gasped.  "Oh my gosh, Solas, are you  _seriously_ doing this right now?"  I went into Acting Mode, leaving Solas completely behind in the dust.

Looking apologetically to the man, I said with a half-wincing, half-smiling.  "I'm really sorry about all that.  I fell asleep and when I woke up he had my lipstick and was all, 'Most beloved,look at what I did!'  He thinks he's pretty funny." My chuckle was full of mirth as I bent down and grabbed a tissue from my travel pack of Kleenex, then handed it to the Antivan so he could wipe off the makeup.  "There.  I hope he hasn't offended you too much."

The Antivan shrugged as he took it.  "He could have done worse things to me."

Solas opened his mouth to strongly protest, but I dug my finger into his back to silence him.  "Right?" I agreed with a laugh.  The line began to move and the Antivan took his chance to depart.  "Well, have a safe trip," I said with a small wave.

"Thank you," he said back cordially as he was swept away.

A bald head slowly turned to me, eyes glaring and jaw clenched.  I only smirked more.  "I'm the best, aren't I?" I sighed happily.

"Your capability to lie as easily as you just did makes me wary," Solas said mordantly.  

 _"Psh._ It wasn't lying; it was acting."

"Which basically means that you are lying."

"No.  It  _means_ that I was taking on the temporary role of a young woman who is nothing at all like myself," I corrected as collected my belongings and stood.  Solas managed to get in a few more seconds of Withering Glare before letting it dissolve with a huff.

"You are incorrigible."

"Tell me something I don't know."

-

"Ah.  Of course Briala had us booked only one room," I said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  "Her entire sense of humor is comprised of watching other people squirm in discomfort."  

"If you do not wish to share, I can make arrangements for separate hotel rooms." Solas said quickly.  I sighed and lifted up the handle on my small suitcase.

"Nah.  I'm good.  But if  _you're_ uncomfortable, you most certainly can," I said, meaning to sound sincere but ending up sounding sarcastic.  Dammit.  I hated when that happened.  

Solas, surprisingly, straightened his shoulders a bit and met my question with the quirk of his lips.  "And pass up the opportunity to sleep in the same room with a beautiful woman?  Perish the thought."

I smirked.  "Very well, then.  But I call dibs on the bed by the window."  We began to walk towards the elevator. "Oh, and I get dibs on the outlet next to the nightstand.  And also on the first shower in the morning.  And working the heater."

Solas pressed the button to signal an elevator going up.  "You may have the bed next to the window.  But I declare any other 'dibs' null and void."

The doors slid open and we stepped in.  I felt my eyes already getting droopy, and there was just something about sleeping in hotel beds that random people have had sex in that made me sleep well.  I was probably going to change into my jammies, brush my teeth, and go to sleep.  "Null and void?  What is this, the Missouri Compromise?"

"Pardon?"  Solas looked at me quizzically.  "I am afraid I do not know what the Missouri Compromise is."

"It's..." I trailed off when I yawned widely. Solas copied me.  "Oh, dang, I don't even know.  I'm seriously tired.  But there's this one documentary on the Discovery Channel that I saw would be airing tonight.  I kind of wanted to watch it.  It's on the cosmos and if Tevinter really had found a way to--"

Solas suddenly pulled me into him and gave me a tender, firm kiss.  Fingers twined through my hair.  I let go of my grip on my luggage handle and wrapped my arms around Solas' waist, leaning into him and kissing back.  Our smooching lasted until the elevator  _binged_ and stopped.  

"You were saying?" Solas questioned, his voice low and humored.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you've been waiting to do that for a while, now," I said back, then strode out into the hall.  A few Orlesians were waiting for the elevator and had the good grace to shoot us a few disgusted glances.  I rolled my eyes when they were behind us.  "Ugh," I started.

"Orlesians," Solas finished.  

We entered our shared room.  I flipped a light on and made my way over to the bed, immediately throwing my suitcase next to it and flopping down on the mattres.  Solas chuckled.  "Tired,  _vhenan?"_

I flipped over and beamed at him as he blushed.   _"Ha!_ So I  _am_ your  _vhenan!"_ I stood on the bed and pointed at Solas.  "You called me that on the day we went to Harding's bakery and nearly choked to death on your coffee!  I didn't want to say anything about it so you wouldn't die, but I don't think this one was accidental."

He drug a hand down his face in embarrassment.   _"Ir abelas,_ Alaran.  I...yes, I do consider you my heart.  But it does not mean you have have to consider me that."

I hopped across the gap between the two beds and landed on the other one so I could tower over Solas.  "You make it sound like you're in pain because of how you feel," I laughed kindly, cupping his jaw and tilting his head upwards so he could look at me.

Solas had the decency to look sheepish.  Wait.  No.  He actually  _was_ sheepish.  My heart swelled and butterflies sprang free in my stomach.  "I am typically good with words," he admitted.  "But when I am around you, I find myself more often than not at a loss to come up with an apt description as to how you make me feel."

"Well I think that in itself perfectly summed things up,  _ma vhenan,"_ I smiled.  Solas' eyes glowed at the relationship status he was now under.  I kissed him atop his smooth scalp, then jumped off the bed so Solas could give me a proper kiss.  

And oh, it was more than proper.  *wink wink*

-

At first, Solas couldn't believe Alaran had chosen to sleep with him in his bed, dressed in her Mabari-dotted matching pajamas.   _"What?" she had demanded when Solas let an amused laugh bubble past his lips.  She cocked a hip and spread her arms as she examined her attire.  "It was a gift from Merrill when I had the bone coughs!  These are like my favorite jammies, Solas.  Don't disrespect them."_

_"You are still beautiful," he spoke.  He had dressed in simple black pajamas and a gray cotton t-shirt._

_Alaran rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.  "Whatever."  She climbed in bed next to him as if they had been doing it for a long time.  He automatically put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close next to him.  Alaran made a noise of satisfaction and closed her eyes.  "Mm, goodnight, Solas."_

_"...Goodnight, Alaran."_

Solas wanted to stay up and continue reading a book she had recommended to him, but his eyes soon began to ache too much for him to focus on the text.  So, with a short, wistful sigh, he closed the book and set it on the nightstand.  He couldn't help but give Alaran a goodnight kiss on the forehead, smelling the scent of lavender on her skin and basking in the elation that warmed his chest at the gesture.  How such a creature as unique and rare and special as Alaran chose Solas, he would never know.  But, for once in his life, he was content not to ask any questions about it.  For now, at least.  

He reached over and turned off the lamp before settling down in the blankets.  Alaran hummed softly and shifted her position until she had her leg wrapped around his waist as well as her arm.  Solas closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her temple.  He began to drift into sleep...

Until Alaran violently turned over.  Her elbow clipped Solas' jaw rather painfully.  She mumbled something incoherent as he groaned and rubbed the spot where he had been hit.  After the use of some healing magic, though, he attempted to go back to sleep once more.  And he did just that, for a while.

But, even in sleep, Alaran Lavellan was not normal.

Because of that, Solas wasn't even able to reach the Fade due to the numerous assaults he received over the course of eight hours.

She was with him, though.  That was what mattered.

-

My eyes blinked open.  One moment I was gazing down at the mangled, charred body of Divine Justinia, and the next I was staring up at a white ceiling with a smoke detector.  A horrible sense of guilt and despair still knotted my insides, but I lay still and waited for it to pass.  

Then a body stirred next to me.  I slowly turned my head over and saw Solas resting on his back, his mouth agape and soft snores coming from him.  I had to smile at the sight.  

Wait.

He was still asleep. I was awake.  Complete with morning breath, nasty bed head, booger eyes, and crooked joints.  

I had to fix that.

Slowly sliding out from under the covers, I made my way to the bathroom and braced myself in front of the mirror.   _How can I fix the morning mess that I am and still have it look natural?_

I quietly swished mouthwash inside my mouth and spit it into the sink, then rubbed away the smudged makeup I hadn't quite got off from the night before.  My fingers ran through my hair a few times to tame the beast before prying out the crusty flakes in the corner of my eyes.  And, for good measure, I unbuttoned my Mabari pajamas a notch.   _Not like I had anything to show off._

_Hey!  Body image positivity!_

_*Sigh* You're right, me._

Solas was still asleep when I crawled back in.  I placed my body and arms in an innocent, pretty position, and closed my eyes once more.  A short while later Solas began to awaken.  This was it.  He would fall for the illusion that I looked like this every morning.   _Hue hue hue._

"I can smell the mouthwash,  _vhenan."_

My lips turtle-frowned to hide the automatic smile.  I cracked an eye open and saw Solas smugly smiling at me.

My hand latched onto my pillow and I yanked it out from under me to hit him with it.  "Somebody is an angry elf," Solas muttered dryly as he chuckled.  I hit him again with more force.

"You did  _not_ just use a quote from  _Elf_ on me!"  I yelled, but was unable to contain my laughter.  On the third hit Solas caught my pillow and jerked it from my grip.  So I propped my hands and feet against his body and began to push him off the side of the bed.  Solas fought back, though, and jabbed my stomach in defense.

I squealed and his eyes widened at the revelation.  "Solas, no--" I started to warn, but in an instant he was pinning me down on the bed and tickling my sides.  I screeched as I laughed, and attempted to flail my limbs whichever way I could.  It was no use, though.  I was going to have to go into defensive Beast Mode if I wanted to get him...

_The cold wind flapped the tent outside, but we were warm together, and the peace that came after having made love only fueled the fire within our hearts.  "You should tickle me more often, emma lath," I said as a finger traced the contours of Solas' shoulder.  "Things like this do not happen enough..."_

**_You have to get back._ **

For once, though, I ignored the prompting and instead focused on the fact that Solas' lips were against mine.

-

"Ugh.  They can't even freaking close the blinds," I grumbled as Wade and I both sat on the ledge of a building.  Yeah.  I liked to sit on ledges and spy on people.  It's the best vantage point there is, okay?  And it also has a ton of poetic imagery, if you didn't already know.  Not that I'm even going to go into it with you guys.  "But at least now we can see how our bets end up."

Wade took a hefty bite of his breakfast burrito.  "Ya know," he said through the food, "I don't get why she likes him.  He's kind of a racist-grandparent-egg in real life, right?  And who the hell wears a t-shirt to bed!?"  He then angrily chucked his burrito at the hotel window Al and Solas were in.  It didn't even make it halfway and plummeted to the ground below.  

"Must you?" I sighed, and gave Wade the rest of mine.  

"Thanks, babe.  But come on.  Really?  What man sleeps with a shirt on?"

"One that's respectful towards the person he's rooming with.  She's going to take it off of him, though.  Watch."

"This feels wrong," Wade whined.  "It's, like, the bad side of porn.  The real kind.  And nobody likes watching the real kind."

I rolled my eyes.  "They're not going to have sex.  What do you think this is, some kind of smut show?"

"A lot of people wish it were."

My hand waved nonchalantly in the air.  "People schmeople.  Nah, they're just going to get frisky.  Ope!  Butt grab!  I totally called it!  Pay up, Wilson!" I crooned.  

Wade shoved me off the edge.  I only dropped a couple of feet before floating upwards and taking back my seat.  "Oh, fuck yeah!  Boob squeeze!" Wade hollered as he pointed and leaned forward.  "I knew it would happen!  That's my bro, Solas!"

"Ha!  He tongued her with morning breath and she let him!  Atta girl!  Way to be tough!" I shouted with my hands cupped around my mouth.  

"I don't have morning breath, do I?" Wade asked me.  I raised an eyebrow.

"Would you honestly care if I told you that you did?"

"Nope."

"And that's why I love you."  I grabbed Wade's hand and plucked off two of his fingers.  He took one of my own.  We then tried throwing them at the window we were looking through.

Hey.  We're two people with no near death in sight, and we're stuck in a makeshift reality that is steadily closing in on itself.  We had to come up with a way to place bets and still get something in return.  Fingers were a good substitute.  I'd ask that you'd not judge us, but I honestly don't really care.

Now could you please just go back to Al and Solas?  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter down! I hope you guys enjoyed it! Oh, and if you didn't understand what Al was saying when she had the lipstick lid between her teeth, I figured out what the translation is through months of difficult and intense research, with little food or rest. 
> 
> Wha? I on't ush it ahnywaysh. Ish ihn't reahlly mah calahrd. = What? I don't use it anyways. It isn't really my color.  
> Nah, he wan't. Th Dahlish gahs ahr an mah shi. = No, he won't. The Dalish gods are on my side.
> 
> All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter. It's just really a bunch of silliness, but I need silliness in my life right now. You most likely do, as well. 
> 
> And please, stay lovely.


	14. Stagnancy is for the Stagnant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana is scary. Leliana is smart. Leliana is important. 
> 
> Like, she's gonna be really important.
> 
> And Cole is a total bunny. A killer bunny.

"Ah, Val Royeaux," I breathed in as Solas and I stepped outside of the hotel we were staying in.  "A city of hustle and bustle, where countless numbers of romantic movies have been made, where lovers come to express their love and passion..."

Several passing Orlesians gave the two of us--well, gave our  _ears,_ more specifically--glares of disgust and confusion.  "And where racism is as tangible as low-fat yogurt."

"Yogurt?" Solas repeated.  We began walking to the parking lot where our rental car was at.

"I'm craving some yogurt.  It was the first thing that popped in my mind.  We should get some yogurt.  Scratch that; we should go visit one of their famous cafes--"  Solas opened the door for me. "--Thank you--I mean, it'll most likely be overpriced and not as good as Harding's place, but--"  I stopped talking long enough for Solas to close the door get in on the driver's side.  The moment he was in I continued.  "--We can't just be in Val Royeaux and not experience at least  _one_ thing here."

"And completely ignore the racism and oppression?" Solas asked, looking over his shoulder as he backed out.

I turtle-frowned.  "Well when you put it like that..."  I tucked my hair behind my ear and was silent.  

Solas took my hand and kissed it.   _"Ir abelas, ma vhenan._ I did not mean that I do not wish to go.  But the way elves are treated here are is not the same as it is in Ferelden.  And tension is still strong between them and the humans ever since the rioting.  We need to be careful, here."

I breathed through my nose.  "You're right.  Let's just meet Leliana Nightingale and go back home."

"Alaran..." Solas began.  He never finished his sentence, though, because his eyes widened and glued to the steering wheel.  With a shout of shock and fear Solas veered the car into the opposite side of the street.  We nearly crashed into oncoming traffic.  Horns honked angrily at us and I heard the screech of tires on the road.  He screamed.  I screamed.  Then my head banged against the window as Solas jerked back into our lane.

"SOLAS?  WHAT THE HELL?" I yelled as he breathed raggedly.  I pressed a hand to my head where it connected with the glass and rubbed the spot.

Solas clutched his heart.  His eyes were bright with terror.  "I--I--"  He gulped before continuing.  "For some reason, I momentarily forgot how to drive."

 _"Who forgets how to drive?"_ I demanded to know.  My head  _really_ hurt.  I put my forehead in between my knees and held both sides as Solas calmed his breathing.

Then, after half a minute or so, I started to snicker.  "I presume you are laughing at me?" Solas questioned laconically.

"Who else would I be laughing at?" I questioned back.  I sat up straight and turned my head over to Solas, who had his jaw clenched and his mouth set into a thin line.  "Oh, Solas," I breathed, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.  "Would you rather I get angry at you and stare forlornly out the window that just gave me a huge goose egg than laugh?  Because I could do that, if you wanted.  I could even go  _humph."_ My mouth pulled into an exaggerated frown and I drove my eyebrows together.   _"Humph."_ I leaned in closer until my mouth was pressed to Solas' temple.   _"Humph."_

 _"Da'len,"_ he muttered, but there was amusement in his voice.  I then took it upon myself to lick the entire side of his head.  My tongue even went up to his scalp, and I found that there wasn't a  _trace_ of stubble.  Like, he seriously must have did one hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, one hundred squats and ran ten kilometers a day for three years for his head to be this smooth.  

 _"Argh!_ Alaran!"  Solas was furiously trying to hide his grin.  "Do you want me to actually wreck, this time?"  He attempted to wipe of the gleaming trail of saliva I left on his skin with his sleeve.  

"Mm, you taste good," I stated.  "Maybe later on I could sample other places, see if they taste like..."

The smell of smoke from a chimney.  The whine of breaks on the truck in front of us.  The ache in my head.

"If you say eggs, I will leave a nice little mark on your...Alaran?  Alaran?"

**_Knees scraping against the rubble the dress had been so pretty Dorian wasn't going to be happy where was Varric I just wanted to be in his arms where it was safe and smelled of pine oil and my head rang how could heads ring it was so silly silly silly silly silly as it was ringing ringing ringing ringing ringing until there was nothing left--_**

"You are here."

"You are with me, Alaran."

Lips pressed softly to mine, anchoring me to reality.   _"Ma vhenan,_ you are with me."

Slowly, I wrapped my arms around Solas' shoulders.  He was real.  I was here.  I was with him.  I was with him and we were in a car and he hadn't tasted like an egg he tasted like Solas.  We were going to go see Leliana Nightingale and I was kind of scared because I heard she was actually pretty intimidating and what if I messed up the whole thing it wasn't going to be good then.

"No, but I have faith in you.  And I will be with you.  The two of us together will...oh, how would you put it?  'Out-intimidate' her?  Yes.  I believe we will do that," Solas assured.  

I had spoken out loud, hadn't I?

"Yes, but I do not mind.  I have not minded for quite some time."

I laughed weakly.  "Even when most of what I said to you a couple months ago was an eloquent 'screw you and who you are?'"

"After that, of course," Solas said, pulling away just enough so that I was looked upon.  He had parked our car on the side of the road so he could attend to my malfunction.  "Are you well enough to continue?"  It was a simple question, one that held no doubt or worry.  Just him wanting to know if I was okay to do what needed to be done.

_Now is not the time to be selfish.  I can sit in my room and cry silently as I cradle my hurting hand later.  But for now, I need to be strong._

_**Be the Inquisitor.**  
_

I met Solas with a steel gaze.  "Yes."

-

It was not a completely uncommon sight to view two elves walk into the Orlesian National News building.  Though it was more difficult for them to climb the social ladder, those who persevered could obtain their goals and dreams.  No, it should not be that difficult, Leliana knew, but there was a way.  As such, most did not take notice of their countenance as they announced their presence to the secretary.  

But Leliana was not most.

She could see that they were intimately involved the very moment she laid eyes on them, even though they were several inches apart from each other.  Leliana had been expecting only the female elf, who, as it seemed, was not just any elf.  It was Alaran Lavellan, the rising Dalish violinist that had caught her eye several months back, and a survivor of the Conclave explosion.  She had done some research on the girl, but never followed up on the potential story.  Yes, she resided in another country entirely, but that was not the main reason.  No Dalish that Leliana heard of would willingly let their kind go to a human store, let alone a human university.  Shed light on her, and there may be repercussions with the clan she most likely left.  And for good reason.  

Hm.  Perhaps Leliana could delve further into the origins of Alaran Lavellan.  She always delighted in unraveling mysteries and uncovering secrets.  But she did like the Alaran's clothes.  And her shoes.

The male elf, on the other hand, was not originally intended to be here.  The way Alaran and he held themselves was, while confident, slightly different.  Her body focused more on the nature of her perfectly balanced, willowy yet bold shoulders, and the slight tilt of her chin that simultaneously highlighted her delicate neck and brazen violet eyes.   _His_ body, though, was one fluid movement after another, exuding subtle yet tangible assurance that, if he wanted, he could do some very, very dangerous things.  His gray-blue eyes observed and weighted everything at once, which informed Leliana that he was processing her while she did the same to him.  Ah.  That was why Briala sent him.  A promise and a threat, side-by-side.  

Leliana Nightingale wondered how long it would take for them to realize that she was both.

-

"You can breathe, now, Alaran.  We're five blocks away."

"I am breathing, Solas."

"Then let me be more specific:  you can relax, now."

I closed my eyes and rested my head back against the seat.  "...Did I do well?" I asked hesitantly.

Solas took my hand in his.  "You did excellent,  _ma vhenan."_

My eyes flashed open at the sentence.  "Don't coddle me," I sighed.  "I stumbled a few times, and then I sat there like an idiot while Leliana basically recited my past like it was a canticle, and--"

"Alaran."

"What."

"Do you expect me to lie to you?"

"I expect you to tell me the truth."

"And I am."

I turned my head enough so I could glare at Solas sidelong.  After a couple moments, though, I let it dissipate.   _"Ir abelas, Solas."_ I gave a slight snort.  "If you couldn't tell, I'm a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to myself, especially when I know that I can do better."

Solas huffed, his lips quirking upwards while his eyes still focused on the road we were driving on.  "Nobody can attain perfection, Alaran."

"Not even Dorian?"  I couldn't help but smirk at my question.

 _"Especially_ not Dorian."  He glanced at me, his gray-blue eyes dancing in the sunlight as he spoke.  "Would you really like the truth?"

"Yes, please."  I prepared myself for criticism and planned on using it to mold myself into something better.

"You impressed me.  Any moment you thought you hesitated was, in reality, an adequate time to take before responding.  You showed Lady Nightingale the right amount of calm and poise, yet made your point quite clear.  She tested you, wanted to see if you would crack under the pressure.  And, more than once, I thought that you would.  But you did not.  My presence was hardly required."

I _hated_ it when I blushed.  So in order to hide it the best I could, I looked out the window.   _"...Ma serannas,"_ I mumbled.  "But I do think you flatter me a bit."

"Hm.  I do believe it was you who said that we are both above flattery?"  Oh, I could  _feel_ the smugness in his voice.

"You're an ass," I said as I tried pushing down my smile.  

"And you have a nice ass."

I spun around, gaping.   _"Solas!_ You made a  _funny!"_ I pulled out my phone and immediately began typing.  "Dorian is going to crack up when he reads what you just said."

Solas sighed loudly.  "I would prefer if you didn't tell him," he intoned.  "I will never hear the end of it."

"Okay.  I'll tell Varric, instead."

His head snapped momentarily to me.  I snickered at the reaction I wanted.  "I'm kidding,  _vhenan._ I'll just tell him that we used up all the condoms I packed for the trip-- _kidding!"_

_-_

Alaran sniffed, which made Solas instinctively lean over to see what was the matter.  She immediately hid her face in her hands.  "Don't look at me," she whined.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, even though he knew the answer.  

She knew he knew as well, and peeked through her fingers to shoot violet lightning at him.   _"Hello, Dolly!_ makes me cry, alright?  Especially when freaking Cornelius is singing to freaking Irene and it's freaking amazing and stop freaking laughing at me Solas it's a perfectly normal thing to do, you know."

He pulled her in close as the two of them continued to watch the movie.  The gesture was partly due to the fact that he couldn't hold onto Alaran enough as it was, but it was also partly to ensure that she didn't see the grin he couldn't keep tucked away.  Alaran crying over a musical...

Well.  Solas could safely say that he never would have expected that to occur.

A small sob racked through her frame.  "Perhaps I should inform Dorian that this happens whenever you watch--"

Alaran was on top of Solas in less than a second, covering his mouth with a hand.  "I could kill you, you know," she whispered.  "Varric knows people.  Your body would  _never_ be found."

So, as any rational being would do, Solas gripped Alaran's sides and began tickling her.  She bucked and rolled away, screeching.  "You  _fiend,"_ Alaran hissed.  She was dressed in pajamas with harts on them, tonight.  "You're gonna pay."

He allowed himself to smirk.  "It will be my pleasure to do so."

-

"We're creepers, babe," Wade said to me as we sat on the same rooftop.  

"Oh, totally."  I tapped my heels against the stone wall and hummed.  "But I gotta watch out for Al, ya know?  She's like my little sis."

"So by that you mean watching her get felt up by a gangly egg?"

"It's not like that...okay, maybe it is.  But I can't  _See_ what's really going to happen, and that bugs the crap out of me.  So who do I have to observe, instead?"  I pointed at Alaran's and Solas' room.  "The two people who are in the center of this shit-storm.  I can literally feel the Orb's power in her, never quieting and only growing stronger.  And it pisses me off that I don't know what's going to happen when she finally remembers who she is and what she did and when the Orb tries to consume her and all her friends.  I get glimpses, sure, but there are too many if-thens that go on for me to be confident in foreseeing future events." _  
_

"I thought you said that the Orb wasn't evil?"  Wade shoved a finger up his nose as he asked me the question.

"It's not; it's just  _power._ Raw and trapped and with enough sentience that it knows it's power needs to go somewhere.  Wherever that somewhere  _is,_ though, is up for debate.  Hopefully it doesn't involve exploding any bodies back on Thedas." _  
_

Wade giggled and flicked his booger into the air.  "Exploding bodies.  Sweet.  Three fingers say that if What's-His-Nuts explodes a bunch of egg yolk with spray everywhere."

I held out my fist for him to bump.  "You're on."  I tilted my head at a sudden inkling.  "Oh!  Dude, we have somewhere we need to be!"

"Please tell me it's not in that room.  I'm up for a lot of things, but I don't know how I feel getting janky with a five-year-old and a grandpa."

"Wade I'm older than Solas by like a million years."

"Yeah, but you're way hotter than he is, so that makes up for it."  Wade stood up on the ledge and offered me his hand.  I took it and was pulled up.

"Thanks, Mister Wilson."

"You're welcome, Missus Wilson.  Now where are we going?"  I turned around so he could hop on my back.  My arms latched around his legs and held them in place as both of his hands securely gripped my boobs.  

"We're going to go help a little Nightingale out."

"With what?"

I broke into a run on the ledge of the building.  "Just move in the right direction.  This reality may just be a figment of Al's imagination, but it's a very elaborately constructed place.  Seriously, like, kudos to Al for doing this so well."  I jumped off the edge and into the air.  "But she's not the only one who has strange notions that something isn't right.  Leliana does, too, because she's a beast.  And  _since_ she's not the one keeping this whole prison up through sheer will, we can let her in on a few things."  The ONN building quickly came into view.

"Isn't she scary, though?"

"Ginger-scary."

 _"Yeesh._ Are you sure you can't handle this one on your own?"

"Um, you're my husband, Wade Wilson.  You need to support me in all that I do.  That includes facing a small Orlesian lady with eternal pits of secrets and deception for eyes."

"But  _babe--"_

"I will throw you off my back if you keep whining," I warned.  "And the sooner we can get this to happen, the sooner we can go home.  And the sooner we can go home, the sooner we can make the printers at the Avengers headquarters use all its paper to print copies of our butts."

 _"Uggghhh,_ fine.  But then we're having sex in Banner's research lab."

"Deal."

-

This was why Leliana was going to be the best.  She was willing to stay late when nobody else would.  Her fingers flew over the keyboard, only occasionally taking a sip of lukewarm coffee.  Not that she minded.  Leliana was more accustomed to drinking that than an actual hot cup.

Alaran Lavellan.  My, what an interesting girl.  Perhaps she could be more of a story than this whole rebellion combined.  What way could she tie the two of them in together?  What strings could she pull that weaves a story nobody ever would have thought?  The girl didn't want to be mentioned, no, and she had good reason.  Leliana  _was_ going to abide by her wishes, but that had been before she realized just how much force Alaran had residing in her.  Both stories separately would bring about some serious controversy and debate, as well as shed light onto things that previously had been shadowed, but together...

Leliana was not doing this for her own personal gain.  she could live with others thinking that, however.  As long as the truth was out, as long as a difference could be made, she would be satisfied.  

Alaran's story was going to be told.

"Or nah," chimed a sudden voice.  It made Leliana jump and then immediately scowl.  She wasn't fond of being scared.  Not only was it irritating, but she prided herself on not being frightened easily.  Whoever was--

A woman with a Mohawk and a man in a strange costume both leaned over her cubicle wall.  The woman was crookedly smirking.  "Hey, Lel.  Long time, no see.  You look good as a journalist.  It suits you."

"Who are you?" Leliana said coldly.  The woman's smirk only grew more crooked.

"Oh, you know who I am.  You just gotta think."  She tapped the side of her bare skull.  "Remember the Arbor Wilds?  After the battle with the Red Templars and the Inquisitor disappeared and Varric was flipping shit and then I came along and you nearly skewered me?"  Her head tossed back and she laughed.  "Oh, but you can't kill me.  Nobody can."

Leliana was already reaching for her phone to call security when the woman opened her mouth and sang.   _"Nightingale's eyes--what secret lies, in their worth?"_ A finger absently twirled in her thick black hair.   _"Raven's tears they cry, but all the while, they softly lie and spy on you..."_

**_Hours upon hours sitting in the rookery, plotting and planning and watching everything.  She didn't like the cold, and safe to say the rookery was one of the coldest places in the fortress.  Though she would never say it, Leliana enjoyed the sudden and unexpected visits by Inquisitor Lavellan, who always brought with her either a hot meal to share with the Spymaster, or a cup of steaming tea.  All her food and drink was always lukewarm by the time she got around to it, but Alaran always made sure that wouldn't be the case whenever she was around.  Alaran, the Otherworlder.  Alaran, the young woman who had the weight of a foreign world she called her own on her shoulders.  Alaran, her superior._ **

**_Alaran, her friend._ **

"Look at you, remembering like it's nothing!" Hallah Lynne exclaimed jovially.  "Aw, man, it's going to be so freaking great, now.  I know what's going on, you know what's going on, Wade knows what's going on--"

"Not really, but I'm super supportive!--"

"So now you know what your real goal should be.  Move the story forward, don't let things get too stagnant, and don't convolute things.  If this reality goes nowhere, there will be no place for the Orb's power to go, and it'll do some serious messing up."

"She means that all of you will explode," the man, Wade, put in confidentially.  He then made the motion with his hands, and adding a _"Woosh!"_ to it.  

Leliana was still reeling from the revelation that had just been thrust back into her mind.  It gave her a pounding headache.  "What..."  She swallowed so she wouldn't trail off, again.  "What do you need me to do?"

That made Hallah grin, which revealed sparkling white, perfect teeth.  "I can tell that we're going to be besties, Lady Nightingale."

-

_Restricted Number:  
Well done._

_Restricted Number:  
Your next assignment will be given shortly. _

"You are frightened, but excited as well," Cole said as he packed up his cello.

"Sometimes I wonder about you, Cole," I sighed as I put my phone away.  I hardly ever responded to Briala.  She wouldn't answer me, anyways.  Or it was Morrigan.  I could never tell between those two.  

"I wonder about a lot of things," he said back absently.  "Too many, yet nothing at all."

"Again, I wonder about you.  Not that I don't like you, though.  I think you're a cool kid," I smiled.  Cole looked up at me and tilted his head.  

"I am a cool kid?" he repeated.

 _"Psh._ Yeah you are!"  I ruffled his flaxen hair.  "You're one of the coolest kids I know.  Besides myself, of course.  I'm freaking awesome."

Cole and I said our goodbyes, and then I was off, heading home so I could make myself something to eat before I went to work.  I was thinking maybe a giant pita with chips stuffed in it, or some pasta that would go well with the leftover parmesean chicken Varric, Hawke and I had last night.  And then I could have some soda with it, and maybe have some hummmus with some chiiiiips, and--

My shoulder clipped a passing shem.  "Sorry--" I immediately started to apologize.

"Watch where you're going, knife-ear," he spat.  "Why don't you just go back to your piss-poor home, where you belong."

I subtly gritted my teeth together.  They always wanted a reaction, an excuse for them to be even more racist and rude.  I moved to keep on walking, but lashed a hand up from under my coat and gave my butt a hard squeeze.  "All of my father's servants weren't ever this good-looking," said another with a smug grin.  "Let's be nicer to her, huh?  See where that gets us."  

My eyes viewed the surrounding area.  I had taken one of the paths behind the back of the Theirin Building.  It was a shortcut to the place where I typically parked my car.  Not many used it, which was the main reason why I took the route.  And, as of now, there was nobody around except for me and the four boys.  

Ah, shit.

"Well, I'm going to go, now," I stated quickly, and tried walking away.  But there was some silent consensus between the boys that they should cut me off.  And so I found myself looking up at them.  

_Oh, please, you've faced demons and darkspawn.  You can handle a few pricks._

But no matter what I did, no matter what happened to me, it would always be my fault.  If I did get assaulted, all the boys would testify that I was asking for it.  If I fought back, they would say that I attacked them while they did nothing.  So which consequence would I choose to face?  

My grip tightened on my violin case.   _Do not be the first to engage,_ Cassandra's stern voice echoed in my head.   _You let them come at you so you can gauge what it is they use the most.  Then?_ she prompted.

_You take it away from them._

I had people who would help me when I would be persecuted legally.  My little family, small and odd, would be there for me.  They had my back.

"Leave her alone," a soft, vague voice said from the entrance I had just come from.  

"Cole," I breathed, the knot of tension inside me lessening.

"Hey, man, we were just having a little fun," said the guy who pinched my butt.  "Wanna joi--"

He never finished his sentence because Cole had punched him in the face.  But he didn't stop there.  As the guy doubled over Cole gripped the back of his head and held it in place as his knee collided with a nose.  Red blood spurted onto the snowy concrete, as bright and hot as red lyrium in Emprise du Lion.  

_You've never been to Emprise du Lion._

"Don't come here again," Cole stated.  There was still a vacancy of malice or anger, but there _was_  something extremely dangerous underlying the lightness of his tone.  

He then stepped forward and took my hand in the same one that he had punched with just moments before.  It was shaking, slightly, but that might have just been my own hand.  Cole must have been hurting; hitting with a bare fist always caused some amount of pain to the giver, but he showed no sign of being in any.

"Thank you, Cole," I whispered.  My heart was threatening to burst out of my chest.  I would have felt ashamed at how I was feeling, but I decided that it was perfectly acceptable to be a little shaken up after a potential physical and sexual assault.

"You are welcome," Cole said.  "I will walk you to your car."  

"Okay."

-

 _"What_ happened?" Varric fumed.  

"Please, Varric, don't make me repeat it," I sighed as I drank a can of rootbeer with a straw.  "My ass cheek probably has a bruise on it, but other than that I'm fine."

He, obviously, was not fine.  "You know, I'm going to write to some people.  This type of shit shouldn't be happening at such a university," he basically growled.

"Well," I muttered with the straw between my teeth, "You shouldn't be  _too_ surprised.  Ferelden University's acronym is literally F U."

Varric snarled more at the situation than at me.  "And you said that kid saved you?"

"Yeah."  I gave a surprised, low chuckle.  "He kind of went all Batman on them, actually.  I never would have expected it from Cole.  Who knew noses bled that much?"  My shoulders shrugged briefly to signify the end of the conversation and I stood.  "Well, I think I'm going to go take a bath to try and get some of the filth I still feel on my skin.  Do you think you could have somebody from the Chantry come and bless the water for me to better purify my soul?"

I was hoping that would at least get a smile from Varric.  It did, albeit he forced it a little.  "No, but Choir Boy is back in town.  You could have him praise Andraste enough to do something of the like."

I gasped and grinned.  "Seb's back?  Varric, why didn't you tell me?"

"Hey, I just found out from Hawke like twenty minutes ago.  And he's only going to be in town for the rest of the week."  

I did a little dance.  "Aww yiss.  Seb's back in town."

"Remind me again  _why_ you like him so much?" Varric prodded.

"Because he's like big ball of Starkhaven innocence, Varric.  He's so freaking pure."

"He doesn't like mages."

I snorted.  "Yeah, I find that a  _bit_ hard to believe, considering the fact that some of his closest friends are mages."

"He's a Chantry fanatic."

"And you're a workaholic, but we all have the good grace not to say so," I winked.  I took my can of pop and slightly raised it.  "Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to go take a bath and drink my rootbeer at the same time."

"Because you're an adult?"

"Because I'm an adult."

-

**_Bzzz_ **

**_Bzzz-bzzz_ **

**_Bzzz_ **

**_Bzz-bzzz_ **

I squinted at the bright light my phone gave off.  My vision was blurry for a few moments, so it took a little while to see who was calling me at 2:47 in the morning.  The picture ID popped up, displaying me grinning as I pulled on Hawke's beard while he made a face of protest.  I sighed and swiped to answer the call.

"...Hello?" I answered groggily.  

"Hey, Alaran," Hawke said back.  He was using his airy voice.  I sat up as a small stone of dread settled in my stomach.  

"Hawke, what's up?" I asked as I rubbed my eyes and turned on the lamp on my nightstand.  

"Oh, nothing," he chuckled.  I got out of bed and held my phone between my cheek and my shoulder as I put on socks and snowboots.  "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"Nah, you didn't," I lied easily while running my fingers through my hair to get it to look a little less atrocious than it did already.  "You okay, Hawke?"

"Hm?  Oh--yeah, I'm totally fine," he responded.

"Where are you?"  I grabbed my keys and made my way down the dark hall.  Varric was snoring.  That was good.  If Hawke wanted Varric to talk to him, he wouldn't have called me.  And I didn't want to push him further away by alerting his best friend to the situation.  Weird, I know, but that's how it was.  Some friends are needed for some things, while some are needed for others.  

He gave another chuckle, but this one was more cracked and aching.  "I'm just at the house."

"Is Anders there?"

"No, he went to some mage convention."

"What?  And you didn't go with him?" I teased, trying to sling on my coat while still talking to Hawke.  "But you love going to things like that.  That's where you got me the magical Cards Against Humanity, remember?  They sell all sorts of cool stuff there."

"They do, don't they?  But you know how intense Anders can be when it comes to magic and shit.  I kind of wanted to give him his space."

"A fair point."  I quietly walked out the door and hurriedly made my way down to the parking garage.  

 _Just keep him talking,_ I repeated in my head as I drove to Hawke's place.   _Don't let him hang up._

I pulled up to the small little shack he and Anders both lived in.  It was completely dark.  I got out.  "...Hawke?  You there?" I said as I clenched my jaw so my teeth wouldn't start chattering in the cold.

"Yeah, I'm here," he said, but from the way he spoke I got the feeling that his mind was somewhere else.  

"Good," I huffed, then knocked on the door.  I heard rustling on the other line, and a few seconds later Hawke opened the door.  I hung up the phone call and gave a small smile.  "Because I'm here, too."

Seconds later I was being crushed in Hawke's arms as he hugged me on the front porch.  I managed to wrap my arms around his waist.  "I got dark, Al," he confessed in a whisper.

"I know," I whispered back.  "That was why I came."

"It's three in the morning," he laughed weakly.  "You really didn't have to."

I leaned back and tugged on Hawke's beard.  "No, I didn't have to.  But I wanted to."

Hawke stared at me, his fierce hazel eyes aglow in the dim yellow light the porch lamp gave off.  "Maker, Al," he breathed.

I was about to say something witty and sarcastic because I'm, well, _me,_ but none of that happened because...

Because Garrett Hawke planted his lips on mine.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of threw a lot of things together in this chapter. Every time I neared the end of a scene I thought, "Should I call this good?" then a moment later I answered with a "nope." So here ya have it. But I think I ended at a pretty nice spot, wouldn't you guys say so? 
> 
> But seriously, that scene where Solas forgot how to drive because HE'S FROM THEDAS AND THEY DON'T HAVE CARS THERE and both of them are screaming has been implanted in my brain for forever, now, and I had to get it out. And I honestly don't know why I put those previous words in caps lock. Nor do I know why I'm going to put the next ones in all caps, as well. Maybe because we're so far away from each other?
> 
> STAY LOVELY.


	15. Incest No Incesting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath and what comes next.
> 
> More of Solas' past is revealed. Much angst.

What.

The.

**POOP.**

_Beard beard beard ack it's so itchy--_

Hawke pulled away from my rigid lips and let out an awkward half-laugh, half-groan.  "Shit," he muttered.  "Al, I'm so sorry."

"That was..." I started, but was too wary about his current state to finish.

"Gross?" he finished.  

"...A bit, yeah."

"It was like I was kissing my sister," Hawke admitted with a sneer like he had just tasted something bitter as he let go of me.  "My little elven sister that is basically my best friend's daughter."  He then animatedly and loudly shuddered as I furiously scratched my mouth and chin from where his beard made contact with my skin.

I stepped inside the house and flicked on the living room light.  "Do you mind explaining what that was all about?" I asked as I took off my red coat.  Hawke closed the door behind us.

"I, ah, well..."  He scratched the back of his head and grimaced.  I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow.  Finally Hawke's shoulders deflated and he looked down at his feet as he answered.  "I've liked you for a long time, Al."

My gut twisted, but I didn't let it convey on my face.  "And now?  Do you still feel that way?"

He snorted.  "Maker, no.  Not after experiencing  _that."_ _  
_

"And you didn't think to tell me how you felt?"

"You honestly think that I could?"  Hawke shook his head and moved to sit down on the couch.  He rubbed his face with his hands and moaned frustratedly before continuing.  "I don't even know how to deal with how I feel about myself.  Believe me, there were plenty of times where I thought I would tell you, but I always psyched myself out before I ever did.  And then tonight..." he shook his head dejectedly, unable to meet my gaze and instead staring at the floor with sad hazel eyes.  "I don't even know.  But I'm sorry, Alaran.  I'm really sorry."

"I forgive you."

No matter how many times I said that to Hawke or Varric or anybody, they always looked at me with some degree of surprise, as if they expected me to harbor resentment or bitterness for at least a while longer.  But I didn't have time for that.  I had too many things that needed to be done for me to be held back by negatively-exerted emotions.  Especially in this situation, where Hawke was still in a fragile state and needed all the support and comfort he could get.  

He breathed a somewhat sigh of relief.  "And what about Solas?  Are you going to tell him what an idiot I am?"

"I'm going to tell him what happened, but not that you're an idiot," I corrected.  I gave Hawke a small smile.  "He'll understand, I promise."  I then sat down next to Hawke and tucked my knees to my chest.  "So what's up?"

-

Solas and I were making dinner at his place.  I was standing over a pot on the stove, stirring a thick, creamy gravy that was about ready to be poured over mashed potatoes pork roast.  Solas was next to me, making sure that the vegetables were being properly cooked.  Old music played in the background.  "So get this," I said as I stirred, my eyes still fixed on the gravy.

He stopped humming.  "Yes?" he asked absently.  

I took in a short breath and steeled myself to say the next sentence.  "Hawke kissed me last night."

Solas stopped moving the wooden spoon around in the pan.  His knuckles instantly whitened and I could almost  _hear_ the Kill Bill sirens going off in his head.  "...Oh?"  An ounce of fury slipped through his guarded voice, and I felt the ozone of sudden magic surround the two of us.

I set my own spoon horizontally across the pot and turned to Solas.  His jaw was clenched, naturally, but there was more to it than that.  Those gray-blue eyes of his were conjuring up an ominous storm, and there was an underlying danger to the stance he had subtly shifted to.  "Let me explain," I said calmly, drawing close to Solas and taking his smooth, slim tie between my fingers.  "Before you ask like I know you want to:  no, I did not reciprocate the action nor did I expect it coming.  Hawke has depression, and sometimes it can get pretty bad when he's by himself.  So I went over when he needed me, and it just... _bam._ Happened.   _But,"_ I added so Solas still wouldn't jump to conclusions, "five seconds after Hawke kissed me he stopped and said it was like committing incest, and not to mention I was pretty grossed out, too.  You know, I always thought that it was a shame elves don't grow facial hair because I kind of like beards, but after that experience..." I scratched my chin at the memory, grimacing.  "I'm kind of glad you're as smooth as a baby's bottom."  For good effect I ran a thumb along Solas' jawline.  He rolled his eyes, but the storm in them was calming down.  

After a huff, Solas said a bit begrudgingly, "I hope Hawke is better."

"He is," I said with a small smile.  "We just need to keep an eye on him for a little while, and I've got Merrill and Isabela and Seb on the case."

"Seb?"

I went back to stirring the gravy.  "Sebastian Vael.  He's a good friend of ours, but the whole time you've known us he's been in Nevarra doing some humanitarian aid through one of the Chantry's programs.  And I think he's headed back to Kirkwall after this to do some more.  You know, he was a contender for the Starkhaven throne, but Hawke and his band kind of helped him find the right path."

Solas' brows shot up.  "'The band?'  You're not talking about the Champions of Kirkwall, are you?"

I snorted a laugh.  "The one and only.  Believe it or not, they're actually a pretty good group of people, once you look past all their...ruggedness."  Solas chortled at the description.  "And Sebastian was the one who helped Varric work through all the legal documentation that he had to put through when we had to get my legal guardianship transitioned from my parents to him, since the guy used to be a social worker."  I turned off the stove when I deemed that the gravy was done.  "It wasn't a pretty battle.  But Seb ensured that everything worked out.  For some reason, though, Varric has always wanted to cause sparks between the two of them.  I think it's because Sebastian's just a normal, faithful guy, and Varric's not used to normality.  He _is_ faithful, but not in the way typical Andrastians are, and that kind of grinds his gears.  Don't ask me why, though."

"Interesting.  I was not aware you were Varric's actual ward," Solas mused as he placed the vegetables in a ceramic bowl, but not before bowing his head and pressing a kiss to my forehead.  

I poured the gravy into a...oh, what do you call it?  A gravy boat?  Even though the liquid is  _inside_ the boat, and not outside like it should be.  And it amused me that Solas even had one in the first place, seeing as he lived alone.  It was a nice one, too, despite the age it most likely was.  "Yeah.  The whole thing was long and drawn-out, but that was most likely due to my parents and the clan." I smirked suddenly.  "But, as you know, I'm one smart cookie.  I took pictures of all my bruises my father gave me on a camera and made sure I took the memory card out before I ran away.  So that really helped our case.  And, in all reality, the court system was leaning towards Varric from the start."  I placed the gravy boat on the counter.  Solas and I maneuvered around each other in the kitchen.  We had grown so accustomed to cooking there that each movement was more of a dance than a step.  Solas grabbed the kitchen plates that I otherwise had to crawl on the countertop to reach, and I got out the utensils and napkins and drinks.  

"Have you had contact with your parents since then?" Solas questioned as we sat down.  

"No.  I don't really want anything to do with them.  I mean, I don't want anything  _bad_ to happen to them--they amplified the traditional Dalish culture quite well, and the clan managed to sustain a semblance of their former life despite shems trying to crush and kill it out of them, but...it's not the culture that beat me until I blacked out.  It's not the culture that made me want to get  _vallaslin_ to impress it."

"Would you ever want to see them, again?"

I snorted into my mashed potatoes.  "Take a guess," I muttered before shoveling food in my mouth.  

Our topic soon turned to other things, and the townhouse was filled with our laughter and the low melodies of Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin.  The food was spectacular, as usual.  We cooked so well together we hardly had the desire to go out and eat, which also meant that Varric didn't have to worry about me being home by myself before he got back late at night because I was with Solas.  

I was with my  _vhenan._ _  
_

"Hey, since I'm your  _vhenan,"_ I said while I was thinking about the subject, "does that also make me your girlfriend?"

Solas paused with a forkful of potatoes halfway to his open mouth.  I gave him a flat stare.  "You're seriously having to  _consider_ that?"

He set his utensil back onto the plate.  "Of course I'm having to consider it," he said hastily.

"Wait," I said slowly, squinting my eyes at him as a smirk crawled across my face.  "Solas, have you ever even  _had_ a girlfriend?" 

The tips of his ears flushed red.  "Of course I have, Alaran," he snapped.  The reaction made me laugh.  

"Really?  Who?  Did you meet her at summer camp?" I teased, playfully prodding his thigh with a finger.

"No.  It was when I was younger," Solas responded coolly as he swatted my hand away.  

"Lemme guess, she only dated you for your hot bod," I said back as I took a bite of my food.  Solas rolled his eyes.  A second later I felt mana tickle my nose.  "Heyyy," I whined as I itched away the feeling.

"Her name was Ellana."

"How long ago did you guys date?" I asked.  I wasn't being jealous; I was being nosy.  There was a drastic difference.

"For a year or so," Solas answered as he continued eating.  "But I was a very different person ten years ago, as well."

I nearly shot gravy through my nose.  "Okay, so it's not that you haven't ever  _had_ a girlfriend, it's just that you haven't had one for  _ten years,"_ I snickered, but upon seeing Solas' face it faded.  I tilted my head.  "What made it end?" I spoke quietly.  

Solas sighed and looked down at his food.  "The passing of my mother made me...become a different person.  Ellana didn't agree with it.  Our decision to no longer see each other was mutual."

My eyes flickered to the gravy boat, then to the rest of Solas' townhouse.  It all made sense, now, why some things were slightly out-of-place because of how outdated they seemed.  Solas was not very old, and elves typically lived a long life with little sickness.  "What happened to your mamae?"

The term almost physically impacted Solas, but he regained composure before it could even be considered lost.  "She was murdered," he answered simply.  

My pork roast I was chewing on suddenly tasted like ash.

Solas attempted to chuckle, but it was halfhearted.  "I am always reluctant to say such things to others because of that exact reaction."

I forced myself to swallow.  "Well, how would you expect me to react?" I questioned.  

He gave a small shake of his head.  "Continue treating me normally?"

I gave a small smile in return.  "Solas, I've never treated you normally."  I gently gripped his cleft chin between my thumb and the side of my index finger to turn his gaze towards me.  There was grief, shining and paining, alight in his gray-blue eyes.  "But I won't treat you any differently.  And," I added after a moment, "if you're not ready to talk about it, I can wait."  I leaned forward and pressed a loving, tender kiss to his lips.  He clung to it for several seconds before we separated.

 _"Ma serannas,_ Alaran," Solas said somberly.  The back of his knuckle grazed my cheek in a feather-light motion.   _"Ma serannas."_

_-_

"Fockin fock-faces callin' me a fockin flat-ear," Sera snarled angrily as I hauled her away from the group of shems in the area behind the starting line.

"Sera," I said, trying to get her attention.   _"Sera!"_

"Wot?" she snapped distractedly.  Her eyes were still glued on them, and I imagined she was coming up with a thousand ways to maim or kill any one of her competitors.

"You know what the best thing is to get revenge, don't you?"

"Snap their boards in half and light them on fire," Sera responded automatically.  

 _"No._ You go out there, you kick some ass, and then you shove the giant trophy and all the cash you're going to win right in their stupid faces," I said to answer my own question.  That finally got Sera's attention, and she shifted her gaze back to me.  She was clacking loudly on a giant wad of bubble gum.  

After blowing a thoughtful, pink bubble, Sera gave a slow nod in agreement.   _"Yeah,"_ she said excitedly.  "I'm gonna fockin tear shite up and kill it out there."  Still, she chewed even louder on her gum.  "You'll be waitin' at the finish line, yeah?"

"I wouldn't be anywhere else supportively freezing my ass off," I answered with a reassuring smile.

"You're the best, Ally."  Sera gave me a quick, lightning-fast hug that left me blinking and asking myself,  _did that just happen?_ But she then gave me a punch on the shoulder.  "Now get outta here, 'fore you get run over or somethin' like that."  

Before I left, though, I put Sera's helmet I had tucked under an arm on her head, then securely fastened it with cold, stiff fingers.  She scowled at me, but it was a forced effort.  "You're going to win the shit out of this, Sera," I said lowly, my voice full of faith and confidence in her.  "And when you do win, you're taking me out to dinner.  Got that?"

"'S long as you don't bring your elfy boyfriend, yeah," she grinned.  A fire had sparked in her eyes upon hearing my words.  

"You got yourself a deal."  I rapped my fist on Sera's helmet and returned to my car to drive to the finish line.  Who in their right mind wanted to host a  _longboarding competition_ in the middle of Umbralis?

_People like Sera, who loved it so much taking on a competition in the winter was a challenge more than an impossibility, no matter how unwise it may be._

I had so,  _so_ much going on.  I still needed to practice for the gala, organize a fundraiser for the elven club at Ferelden University, finish up a paper for one of my classes, send more information to Leliana, and somehow get the gang together and celebrate the temporary return of Sebastian Vael, the Choir Boy.  

But Sera was my friend.  I needed to be there for her.  Maker knows she's been without support from anybody for too long.  

So I stood out in the cold with a small, bundled-up crowd, the only things keeping me warm being the thermos of hot chocolate Varric made for me before I left, the bomber hat Solas equipped me with, and the multi-colored scarf Merrill made me as a present for Satinalia.  

"Chocolate!"

I turned my head down and saw a blond dwarf smiling dreamily up at me.

"Sandal," said another bearded dwarf.  He laid a hand the other's shoulder and planned on steering him away.  "Leave the nice elven lady alone."

I smiled and poured hot chocolate into the lid that served as a makeshift cup.  "Chocolate is good for you," I said as I handed it to him.  He took it gleefully and started to drink it.  

"Thank you," chuckled the older dwarf.  "Not a lot of people are understanding."

"It's not a problem," I shrugged.  "So what brings you two out here in this lovely weather?"

"My company is sponsoring the damn thing," he responded, but it wasn't unkind.  "So for some reason that means I'm obligated to come and watch it."  He held out a thick hand.  "The name's Bodahn.  And this is my son Sandal."

My eyebrows shot up.  "Bodahn Feddic?  You do business with Varric Tethras, don't you?"

He paused before slowly answering, "Aye, that I do.  I'm sorry, do I know you?"

I smirked.  "Do you recall being in his office one day when a spindly, rail-thin teenage elf burst in and demanded that he break up with his girlfriend?"

The memory sparked in Bodahn's mind.  He let out a hearty laugh.  "Alaran Lavellan, is that _you?_ Maker, you've grown!  Is Varric here?  Or is it too cold for him!"

"Take a guess," I snickered.  "Nah, I'm just here because one of my friends is competing.  She's supposedly the best there is this side of the Frostbacks, and you know what?  I seriously believe her."

We chatted and distracted ourselves from the cold while Sandal drank the rest of my hot chocolate.  It was giving me a stomach ache, anyways.

Then, suddenly, from around the bend, appeared the longboarders.  The crowd began to cheer, but I was hollering the loudest, because my little raucous, dirty, sneaky best friend was in the lead.  

"WHOO!  GO SERA!" I screamed at the top of my lungs as I hopped up and down.  I had lost feeling in my toes, but that mattered little, now.  

"Is that your friend?" Bodahn asked.  "Look at her go!"

 _Don't fall, don't fall, don't fall,_ I silently chanted in my head.  "Holy freak, she's going to win," I whispered.  Bodahn clapped his hands loudly in support.

"She's watching," Sandal suddenly said.  I looked to him and found that he was still smiling and watching the ending race, but his eyes were distant.  "She comes to me, in my dreams."

_Dwarves don't dream._

"She is nice.  I like her eyes.  Emerald.  She knows."  

**_Emerald eyes boring into my soul, telling me that everything is going to be alright but making me_ feel  _so, so much more.  And she_  knows.   _She knows it all_. _I need to find her before it is too late._**

**_BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE._ **

My empty thermos slipped from my hand.  

Sera crossed the finish line first with a wicked grin on her face.

Sandal finished the rest of the hot chocolate.

"I want to go home," he announced.  

"We will soon, son," Bodahn said to him.  "Just wait a little while longer."

"No."  Sandal shook his head.  "I want to go home."

_So do I._

_-_

Sera's big-ass trophy sat on the counter as the centerpiece around boxes and boxes of pizza and liters of an assortment of pop.  She was loudly telling the story of her triumph, which only added to the noise levels of the apartment.  Blackwall was here, too, and he was listening to Sera with interest.  Hawke, Anders, and Isabela were playing video games, and everybody else was either talking, eating, or talking and eating.

The buzzer on our wall rang.  I gasped and shot up from the couch and my spot beside Solas.  Skipping over, I pressed the com button and asked in a sing-song voice, "Who is it?"

_"Let me in, lass.  I'm freezing my arse off!  Maker, why is it so cold?"_

"SEB!"

"Finally, he's here!" Hawke yelled, but that didn't stop him from tearing his eyes from the television screen. 

I quickly opened the apartment complex for the Starkhaven man to come in.  When there was a knock on the door, and I nearly tore it off its hinges so I could see Seb.

He made an  _oof_ sound as I threw myself into his arms.  "Good ta see ya too, lass," he choked.  

If I thought it was a whirlwind, before, the arrival of Sebastian made everything even more chaotic.  Solas was promptly introduced to him.  They shook hands in a manly manner, most definitely trying to out-eye-intensity each other.  But Sebastian won that one.  He was kind of the King of Vivid Eyes.  

And I was the Queen.   _Mwa ha ha._

"Alright, everybody!" I screamed.  "Now that we have  _almost_ everybody back--Fenris is still M.I.A.--we can finally commence what has long been overdue."

"No," Dorian immediately disagreed.  "No.  No.  No."

I placed my hands on my hips and beamed.  "Yes, yes, and yes."

Varric sighed, but didn't try and stop me.  "Clear the living room."

"Maker, no," Sebastian groaned.  "I didn't come here for this!"

"Yes you did!" I shouted happily back.  

"Alaran," Solas said warily as he joined in moving the furniture against the wall, "what are you doing?"

"Boss has this thing about playing  _Dance, Dance, Revolution_ whenever Vael is in town," Iron Bull explained as he sat back down on the repositioned couch, pulling Lace back onto his lap afterwards.  

"I'm always a slut when it comes to DDR," Isabela grinned, taking a swig of scotch that she procured  _literally from out of nowhere._ "But I'm a slut when it comes to a lot of things."

"Don't worry, though, Solas," Anders said as he shoveled pizza into his mouth.  "Alaran is the worst when it comes to dancing.  This ends up just being funny more than anything."

"Hey, none of that," I scowled, but it was halfhearted.

"If I leave early, will you hate me?" Dorian questioned sardonically.

"Dorian, you'll literally rip my heart out if you do," I answered.  He sighed exaggeratedly and rolled his eyes.  "Hey, Viv, you wanna--"

"Finish that sentence, my dear, and see what happens."

I snapped my finger at her.  "Gotcha.  So who else is in?"

-

It happened in the middle of the championship round.  Hawke and Josephine were dancing like it was no tomorrow, and she was bound to win because of her spicy Antivan moves.  I had long been booted out of the competition and was now sitting with Solas by the counter eating some pizza.  Apparently my dancing skills weren't worthy compared to the rest of the turd nuggets.  

The knock on the door was loud and forceful.  Solas' eyes sharpened and he sat up straighter.  My stomach turned into a knot, for some reason.  

Hawke paused the game and Varric went to see who it was.  

The fear that we all had festering in the dark corners of our hearts had finally come true.

Five Templars stood in the doorway.  The lead Templar, a woman with vulpine features and a scar running along her jaw, surveyed the room with dark green eyes.  "Grab them and let's go."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This reality is constructed around what Al thought people would be best at in her world. Sebastian never cared for being in charge of Starkhaven and she saw that, so she subconsciously put him in the place of being the good guy he always wanted to be, serving the Maker and Andraste and all that holy stuff. 
> 
> And though there has been no Hawke and Solas confrontation in this chapter, I fully plan on making one sometime in the future. 
> 
> Oh, and Bodahn and Sandal will make their return. Like, seriously though, WHY WAS SANDAL NEVER MENTIONED IN DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION? ESPECIALLY IN THE DESCENT DLC?? I HAVE QUESTIONS THAT NEED ANSWERS SOMEBODY PLEASE GIVE THEM TO ME.


	16. Justice Wants to go Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *insert summary here*

Several things happened all at once.  I'll try to explain them as best I can.

Blackwall propelled himself off the couch to try and talk to the Templars while grabbing a terrified Josephine and putting her behind him.  

Varric tried to intervene their advancement, but was roughly shoved aside and into Hawke, who had come to back his friend up.  Hawke, in turn, chucked a slew of curse words at the magical law enforcers.  He could, because he was obviously not their target.

Iron Bull and Lace moved next to the window to try and get out of the line of fire.  He was a former mercenary; he knew when things were bad and that there was little he could do, so he stayed out of it.  Lace, on the other hand, was being held back from attacking by the Qunari's grip on her shoulder.

Sera began swearing loudly and scrambled out of the way alongside Isabela before a Templar could strike them down.

Dorian's arm was being clutched by Vivienne as she steered him away and into the kitchen area.  Neither of them could afford to let their own identities be revealed.  

Cassandra snarled and began demanding to know what the meaning of this was, but Varric hurriedly made it to her side in time to reign her in.

Sebastian protectively stood in front of Merrill, who looked as if she was in a numb daze, before a baton cracked the side of his head.  Merrill curled her arms around herself before a violent dispelling was cast on her that knocked her off her feet.

Solas was holding me by my waist as I tried to intervene.  His eyes crackled an unnatural blue that soon swarmed his entire body.   ** _"Your fabricated reality offends me,"_** Justice spoke as he raised a hand flaming with magic.

A piercing scream tore through my throat as my head and hand exploded with pain.  I collapsed and Solas grunted at the sudden weight he had to hold. 

There was pain beyond description.  My whole body felt like it was tearing apart at the seams.  Blood began gushing from my nose, and poured down onto my lips and the front of the shirt I was wearing.  

Through my blurry and red-tinged vision, I saw the possessed Anders approach me.  Instead of directing the magic at me, he raised his hand at me.   **" _We need to go back, Herald.  Let us out._** _ **Let.  Me.  OUT!"**_  the spirit roared.

The Templar in charge bashed her baton into the back of his head.  Anders crumpled to the ground.

I couldn't hold off the consuming pain any longer.  My will gave way, and my vision swarmed with black and red.  

"Alaran!...Alaran, _vhenan...with me...please...Alaran..."_

-

It had been a good two hours since Blackwall had taken Josephine and Sera home, since Vivienne exited with a beautiful, contained fury, since Isabela drug Hawke out so he would stop hovering over Alaran, and since Iron Bull and Lace made their quiet departure with him assuring that he would contact some old acquaintances and make sure Merrill and Anders would be watched over in the Circle they were being sent to.

The rest stayed.  Cassandra took it upon herself to Swiffer mop the fair amount of blood Alaran left on the floor.  Her white-haired friend had been settled onto the couch so she could be watched over by Dorian, Solas, Sebastian and Varric.  

The scream still rang in Cassandra's ears.  Maker, everything had been so chaotic and it all happened so  _fast._ Merrill's tears had been seared into her memory, and...and Andraste preserve her, but she had hoped that she would never have to see that side of Anders everybody worried would appear at some point.  But he--Justice, or whatever the name of the spirit was--had gone after Alaran.  They all saw it.

But  _why?_

"Thanks, Cass," Varric muttered as she tossed the dirty sponge pad into the garbage can.  He was making a pot of coffee that they all desperately needed.

Sebastian adjusted the fleece blanket covering Alaran before sitting back down and muttering a prayer to the Maker.  Solas and Dorian were running soft, soothing magic over her body.  "She's deep in the Fade," Solas said with a sigh as he rubbed his tired eyes with the back of his hand.  "It would most likely be wise to protect her in the dreams she's having.  I can imagine they are not the best, and with the vulnerable state she is in already, a serious nightmare could cause more damage."  He looked up to the dwarf.  "Varric, would you allow me to rest and do such?"

He waved a tired hand in permission.  "Yeah, yeah, go for it, Chuckles.  Just...make sure she's alright."  For the first time since Cassandra had known Varric, she saw unhidden worry on his face.  It plainly displayed the wrinkles on his forehead and the sadness in his sienna eyes.

Fatigue burned behind Cassandra's own.  It was late, and she should have been home, by now, but still she readily accepted the mug of coffee from Varric.  He then grabbed a bottle of whiskey from one of the lower cupboards and poured a fair amount into his own steaming cup.  "Make me one as well, would you?" Dorian asked as he slowly walked over.  His eyes were red from exhaustion.  

"Already got you covered, Sparkler," Varric said, and handed the Tevinter an identical cup.  

Solas had sat straight up on the couch at Alaran's feet.  With his arms folded across his chest and his chin tucked under, he had already begun the process of reaching the Fade.  Cassandra could tell solely due to the fact that not only was he asleep, but his breathing was deep and even.  

Cassandra was grateful for the coffee.  It meant that she could drink it instead of talking.

And nobody wanted to talk.

-

Solas found Alaran sitting cross-legged among the stars with her back to him.  She was the brightest of them all.  

He stepped carefully, afraid that he would fall into oblivion if he wasn't careful.   _"Vhenan,"_ he called when he was close enough.   _"Ma vhenan."_

"My heart," Alaran called back longingly without turning her head.  "What are you doing here?"  She was crafting something in her hands, but Solas couldn't tell what it was.  

"I've come to protect you," he said, and cringed inwardly when listening to how antagonistic the sentence sounded.

"Oh?"  He took a step closer to her, ignoring the dizziness that attempted to sway him when the stars flared and dimmed with silver, gold, and blue light.  They rotated around Alaran and him, too fast and too slow all at once.  Beyond, oh so far beyond, resided a darkness that Solas feared to look at.  

"Yes.  We were scared something bad would happen in your dreams, so I came."  

Something was...different.

Solas took another step, and another, but found that he had stopped nearing Alaran, who still hadn't looked back to him.  The white and silver aura that emanated off her porcelain skin could not hide the fact that she wore no clothes.  A bare, willowy back with two dimples above her buttocks displayed itself to Solas.  Her hair, which ran in a long braided plait atop the scalp of her otherwise shaved head, was pulled over an angled, lean shoulder.  "I do not need protecting," she said lightly, airily.  "But I will allow you to join me,  _ma fen."_

The solidity Solas had been walking on seemed to dissipate slightly.  At the same time, his blood ran cold upon hearing those words.  

He stumbled and let out a cry of surprise and panic as he pitched forward into the blackness of space.  Alaran  _tsked._ "Be careful,  _ma fen._ Surely your footing is better than that."

Everything gave way and Solas began plummeting.  A scarred, white, radiant hand suddenly lashed out and gripped his.  A new light erupted with the contact.

Green.

Alaran hauled him up back to where there was solid footing.  She was still naked, but Solas didn't blush from embarrassment.

Rather, a shiver of fear ran through him.

Waves of power rippled off Alaran's being.  Her violet eyes were an entity all on its own.  But, just like the rest of her body, her face was bare.  No  _vallaslin_ etched into her skin.  It made her look older, brighter, darker.

Her head tilted to the side and lidded eyes examined Solas from head to toe.  "That form must be so constricting," she observed.

Suddenly her mouth was next to his ear.   _"Show me who you are."_

He jolted back and conjured veilfire in the palm of his hand.  "Alaran," he said lowly.   _"Ma vhenan,_ what is wrong?"

Alaran looked around at the rotating stars around them.  She reached up a hand and pulled starlight from one.  The dust trailed and swirled between her fingers and up her arm, but ultimately nestled in the scar of her palm.   

"Nothing is wrong."  A smirk flashed on her mouth for a split-second before disappearing, but it made Solas cling to the belief that Alaran still retained some semblance of herself.  "Then again, it would depend if you consider being in the furthest reaches of my conscious a bad thing.  It certainly is interesting, wouldn't you say so?"

 _Stay on topic._ "Do you recall what happened, Alaran?" Solas asked.  She hummed and turned away, walking among the stars.  An infinite number shrunk and laid themselves at her feet for her to tread on them.  Solas could do nothing but follower her.

"Yes.  No.  I remember many things.  Disjointed, disillusioned things.  I do not think I am strong enough to unlock and unravel them yet, though.  So I wait.  I hope I do not wait too long."  Alaran opened a downturned hand.  Light collected to forge a gleaming white greatsword, and dark emerged to seam it all together.  She effortlessly held it straight out to the side and let it flow and gently tear through all that Solas could not see.  "This, however, will be something I will not remember when I awake.  It will be your memory more than it will be mine.  I commend the irony."  The braid had slipped from Alaran's shoulder and now swayed back and forth, synchronized with the side-to-side movement of her hips.  

"You do not seem wholly yourself," he commented, replacing the veilfire with the staff he had conjured to grip.  He had expected many scenarios that would take place once he entered Alaran's mind--anything from helping her escape her worst fear to eating pizza on top of the highest mountain in the Frostbacks--but  _this_ was...

This was not expected.

"How rude of you to say such a thing," Alaran chimed.  Solas could  _almost_ hear a smile in her voice, but it could have been his imagination desperately trying to cling onto something that was familiar.  "You are not entirely incorrect, though.  I feel strange, but not incomplete.  Do you feel strange, Solas?"  She glanced over her shoulder, violet fire scorching his will.  "Change for me,  _ma fen."_

Moments later Alaran had a hand placed on the pelt of a hulking black wolf with six aligned red stars as eyes.  "You appear that way for your enemies," she softly chided.  "Not for your  _vhenan._ Change for me."

The red stars transformed into gray-blue ones.  Alaran gave a small smile.  "There."

They stepped further into infinity.  But they stayed away from the darkness.  "What is there, Alaran?" Solas questioned as he gazed into it for a short period before casting his eyes back to her.  

"The Universe, I suppose," Alaran said, looking out into it for a much longer time.  "Terrifying, isn't it?  To know that a piece of it resides in all of us.  A part of me wonders if there is something on the other end."

"There seems to be no end."

"But neither of us know for sure.  Maybe one day, I will."  She sounded like she meant it.  "Do you happen to see a flicker of green, looking into it?"  Before Solas could answer, Alaran gave a small shake of her head.  "No.  It's gone."

Moments, hours passed.  The trail of stars never ended.  "When will you return to the Waking World with me?" Solas finally prompted.  

"Soon," Alaran answered.  "But for now, I wish to walk among the stars.  I will never get the chance, again, until I've breathed my last breath and my world laments my passing."  She looked to him.  Solas saw recognizable features slowly returning to Alaran's face.  "I do not wish to do it alone."  Alaran's grip on his fur tightened, but her composure was that of a queen.  "Never would I wish to do anything alone without you, my King."

Solas called down the red stars that were formerly his, as well as the the white and blue that belonged to her.  They wreathed the crown of her head.  "Nor I you, my Queen," he responded.  

They walked.

-

The cup of lukewarm coffee paused against Leliana's lips.  Her eyes began darting over the document Alaran had typed up for her to read at alarming speeds.  And when she had finished, she read it two more times.  The probability of this happening was so improbable it couldn't possibly be real.

Oh.  

Right.

This entire place wasn't real.  Lovely.

It made sense, why such happenings occurred in Alaran's life.  She was subconsciously drawing everything to her, good and bad.  

"Yeah, it freaking sucks," a sudden voice said.  Leliana briefly closed her eyes and drew in a breath before swiveling her chair around to see Hallah Lynne leaning against the frame of her cubicle..  The woman had taken it upon herself to become an official employee of ONN.  And by "official employee," she meant that she ate doughnuts all day long, played pranks on all the office workers ("They're not real anyways, Lel, it's not going to get you fired."), and constantly walked around with a mug of coffee passively aggressively telling people what or what not to do, then ending the statement with a _yeah, that'd be great._   "You know who's freaking here?   _Justice._  Man, what a curveball  _that_ was!He nearly poked a hole into the prison Al constructed.  I'm sure it did a lot of damage to her body back home.  Like, serious damage.  She's probably sustained some kind of internal injury.  But not only did the spirit do that; it careened her into the edge of her conscious.  Lel, do you realize how _freaky_ people become when they get thrown there?  I'm surprised Solas even brought her back almost whole, let alone returned himself.  They must be really soul-bonded for something that fluid and connected to happen."

"Almost whole?" Leliana repeated warily.  

A sock puppet appeared on Hallah's hand.  She held it up.  Without moving her lips an inch, Hallah spoke through the puppet, which had sad googly eyes that rolled around with each open-close movement.   _"Of course, Lady Nightingale,"_ it said in a shrill, irritating voice that made Leliana want to strangle the Traveler.   _"You can't just make a trip like that and expect to come back perfectly normal!  You seeeeeeeeee things.  But I've been to my own a few times, and I turned out alright!"_

The sock puppet then spontaneously combusted.  Hallah laughed at it.

Leliana grew very, very worried.

-

**_"Home.  I want to go home."_ **

"So do I," Anders muttered aloud.  He was still unhappy with Justice for completely turning on Alaran for no reason whatsoever, but was quite healthily directing that anger towards the Templars in the Circle facility.  

Specifically one Captain Laurel Trevelyan.

Much to his bitter amusement, Anders found that the woman had broke protocol in hunting down Merrill and him.  Civilians were in the line of fire in a close space, which was apparently a big no-no in the Order.  Especially since Anders had somebody else inhabiting his body.  He wondered how much more reprimanding she would get if she knew there were four other mages in the room at the time they came for just the two?

**_"No, Anders.  I want to go home.  There is no justice here.  There is only her.  There is only them.  The fighting disturbs me."_ **

"What are you prattling on about?" Anders scoffed.  His voice echoed loudly in the cell he was in.  Andraste's burning ass, this was going to be miserable.  

**_"Your incapability to sense it proves to me yet again how weak your mind and flesh is."_ **

"At least buy me dinner first before you're going to talk to me like that," Anders shot back, then chuckled mirthlessly at his own joke.  They hadn't even given him a ball or a harmonica to occupy the time.  The bastards.

After agonizing, boring hours passed, and after Anders had composed two very nasty poems in iambic pentameter, his cell door creaked open and his nemesis stood there with her arms folded, flanked by a few other guards.  All of them had their dispel purge cranked to maximum power.

"Get up," she growled.  "We're going for a walk."

"Did you pick me flowers?" Anders questioned dreamily.  Her scowl deepened.

"I'm allergic to flowers."

"Again, I'll repeat myself," he said with infinite patience.  "Did you pick  _me_ flowers?  Why would you pick flowers for yourself, silly?  Oh!"  He clapped his hands.  "I have a better question!  Why are you here?  Did you get demoted from the field and put on babysitting duty because of that  _spectacular_ failure I had the joy of witnessing?"

"If it were a failure," Trevelyan snapped back with the flash of her teeth, "then you would still be running rampant."

"Yes, I run rampant  _all_ the time.  In fact, I do believe it is one of my favorite pastimes."

"Enough," another Templar snarled, shoved Trevelyan aside, and slammed his baton into Anders' gut.  The mage doubled over and wheezed as the air was forced out of him.  

Well, wasn't this just going to be  _wonderful?_

Alaran had better get Merrill and him out fast.  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically I've been watching too much anime for my own good. Eh. Like I care enough to stop. I wish I could put more into this chapter, but I'm kind of sleepy. So I hope you enjoy what there is.
> 
> Oh, and follow me on tumblr, yo. I like you guys. Be my internet friends. I sometimes post funny-ish things.  
> www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief


	17. She is all Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The build-up

Josephine was...anxious around Alaran.  

Maker knows she had never been, before.  Alaran was a lovely elf, with a heart full of compassion, perseverance, and responsibility.  Any room she entered focused a... _metaphorical_  spotlight on her, and though she most likely never realized it, attention was always centered around wherever she was.   _If_ she chose it to be that way.  It was not a worldly, materialistic type of attention; it was a simple, honest one, that displayed a unique soul with age and wisdom coinciding with youth and progression.  And it could all be seen in her sharp, bright, violet eyes.  

But now...

Something had changed.  Well,  _changed_ wasn't quite accurate; something had  _unearthed_ in Alaran.  Whether it had been inside her from the very start, or it had planted seed in her mind after the incident with Anders, Merrill, and the Templars, a difference had settled in her.  

Not that anything had vanished, of course; Alaran was still Alaran.  But now she was... _more._ Josephine would cast sidelong glances at her friend, only to see her expressionless face staring out the window or in a vague spot before her with no hint as to what it was she was thinking about.  But the Antivan had an idea what it could be.  And that gave her an undoubtedly ominous feeling.

A memory of a conversation they had ages ago kept drifting to her mind, in light of recent events.

_"You are just one person, Alaran.  How can you expect to do so much?"  It had not been an unkind evaluation, and it had not been an unkind question.  Josephine was merely curious to know what motivated Alaran to do so much._

_The elf gave a small smile in silent reply before speaking.  "Because, unlike so many, I can be all Three."_

_Josephine hesitated in confusion.  "What do you mean?"_

_"Most people think that they can only be one kind of person that makes a difference in only one kind of way.  They set their mind on a goal and they see the single path they think will take them there.  But I see it differently."  Alaran winked at her in a similar fashion an elder would do to somebody younger than they.  But it did not offend Josephine.  Rather, it drew her in further._

_Alaran held up a single finger.  "There's the soldier:  the one whose contribution, while seemingly small to them, helps bring about great change because of their ability to help little-by-little."  A second finger raised.  "Then there's the poet:  the one whose mind can build and topple empires with a few sharp, intelligent words and an open-minded view of all they lay their eyes upon."  The third finger lifted.  "And then there's the queen:  the one who sees their kingdom as a whole, and has a desire to protect the precious lives entrusted to them because they see the worth each individual has."  She closed her fist and let it drop to her side.  "Now, what do you think I am?"_

_Josephine almost immediately began to say_ poet,  _but after a moment reconsidered.  A few seconds later she allowed herself some semblance of a smirk and said, "You are all Three."_

_She expected Alaran to suddenly act silly and do some awkward shake of multiple body parts.  But her friend only slightly tilted her chin and flamed the violet fire in her eyes.  "Yes.  I am."_

Josephine had come to the silent conclusion that Alaran was no longer just Three.  

She was Four.

And whatever that fourth aspect was, its intentions were...shadowed.  Maybe that was what unnerved Josephine the most. Not that they were necessarily good or bad, but that they were covered from sight.

_...Watching Alaran gaze over the map had always been the most intimidating when she grew quiet.  It was the calm before the storm._

Josephine blinked and shook her head once.  She had work to do.  And, as much as she was dismayed to acknowledge it, worrying about Alaran was not at the top of her to-do list.  

But she would still worry, just a tiny bit.  Yes.  Just enough to keep the flame of care alight.  

"Or furnace.  You're pretty compassionate," the woman with the Mohawk shrugged as she approached the counter with an armful of second-hand clothes.  Josephine forced herself not to gape; she hadn't seen the woman come in.  

"I beg your pardon?  Did you say something, ma'am?"

The woman smiled.  For an instant, Josephine swore she _knew_ this strange person.  "Nah.  Just talking to myself.  I do that a lot."

-

Morrigan looked down at my plans that she would soon burn in her fireplace after going over them enough times.  "My, my, this has all the workings to be a dramatic play and not a real-life situation.  Are you sure that this can be done?"

"I have faith in those I work with, and in myself," I replied coolly.  "And, if you have nothing more to say over the matter, I wish to depart."

Her intense yellow eyes focused even more on me.  "Something has changed in you, Mistress Lavellan.  And more than a part of me can't help but wonder what that is."

I stood and swept on my red coat.  "Well, Lady Morrigan, I can only hope that it does not impede on the duties and responsibilities you have."  My fingers tightened the matching red wool belt around my waist.  "Now, if you excuse me, I have a gala to make final preparations for."

Morrigan stood, as well.  "Should anything happen," she drawled suddenly as I was making my way out, "and it most likely will, Briala and I are counting on you and Solas to carry on the weight of this revolution."

"Revolution," I whispered with a hint of bitterness.  I turned back around to face her.  "That's what you want to call it?  A revolution?"

She raised an eyebrow.  "Is there something else I should be calling it?  'Tis a revolution, is it not?"

"Revolutions are just a cycle.  The same things happen over and over again because nobody can  _actually_ make a change.  The only difference that occurs is that innocent lives are lost in vain and their souls are taken from this world.  So no, Lady Morrigan, I do not consider this a revolution.  Because there will be a change, and it will be lasting."

"And lives?  So many have been lost already, and there will undoubtedly be more yet."

"Then the best I can give them in return is ensure that their sacrifices are not in vain.  That the world will become a better place."

"Such dangerous words,  _a better place,"_ Morrigan purred.  "Because what could be a better place for you may not be the same as somebody else."

The urge to debate rose in me, but I had things to do and places to be.  "Let us discuss this when we actually have the option to do so," I instead said brusquely, and opened the door an inch.  It let in a breeze of cold, fresh air that I couldn't wait to gulp down.  Morrigan's incense usually gave me a headache.  

"One more thing," she called.  "If this is not a revolution, then what is it?  What does the all-knowing, ever-intelligent Alaran Lavellan decree all our machinations to be?"

"Right now it is a rebellion.  I am not idealistic enough to call it otherwise.  Nor am I foolish enough to assume what this will become and give it a title.  I apologize for disappointing you; I am not all-knowing or ever-intelligent.  But history will not know this pivotal time we find ourselves in as a  _revolution."_

I didn't know whether or not my answer satisfied Morrigan because I promptly departed.  

-

My head snapped against the floor.  I bit the inside of my cheek and felt warm blood pool inside my mouth, but had no time to tend to it because a swift, bare foot was planning on connecting with my ribs.  I narrowly rolled out of the way and sprung back to my feet.  My fists closed and I raised themselves near my face once more.  

"You're rusty," Cassandra said as she bounced on the balls of her feet.  "It does not suit you."

I spat blood on the floor near the edge of the arena.  Cassandra Pentaghast did not believe in mouthguards; if I ever got in a fight in the real world, I wouldn't have one then, so why pretend in practice?  Besides, we cleaned up any blood spilled--or, in this case, spat--on the floor.  "Just don't aim for my face again, please.  I kind of have a public event to go to in a couple of days, and bruises on my pale skin don't cover up that easily."

"Yes, and you would not want to meet King Alistair with a black eye," Cassandra smirked wryly.  I scowled and wiped away the dribble of leftover blood on my chin.

"Okay, it was a  _phase."_

"That is not what Varric told me when you ran into his door amidst your excitement upon hearing the news."

My scowl deepened.  "I'm going to wax off that dwarf's chest hair when he's asleep.   _With_ duct tape.  Then I'm going to give it to Skyggen for scientific research."

"Who is Skyggen?" Cassandra asked as we began circling each other.  

"A friend," I lied.  I honestly had no idea who the hell Skyggen was; I just didn't want to get a weird look.  I got enough of those, as of late.  I didn't need any more when it was unnecessary.  They didn't think I noticed, but in all actuality I didn't  _bother_ to notice.  It took too much effort to pointedly ignore them, so I let it go.  Oh, how I detested feeling eyes on my back, though.  Especially _concerned_ eyes.  It was like somebody was rolling peeled grapes on my skin.

For some reason, however, I got the mental image of a cat.

After a grueling match with Cassandra, I found myself in the locker room slowly peeling off my clothes to get in the shower, only wincing vocally when I was sure that nobody was around.  That damn Nevarran had done a number on me.  But she had left my face untouched, fortunately.  So she did have a smidge of mercy, at least.  

My scar ached.  Wait, no...my entire arm was throbbing.  Ugh.  Great.  How could I--

Another woman with thick, curly, black hair stepped into the shower room.  She took off the towel wrapped around her, hung it on a rack, and turned on a shower head a ways off, humming lightly as she did so.  I gave her a passing glance before returning to clean myself.  

But I knew that face.

My blood ran cold and my stomach dropped to the floor.  

_So this is it.  This is how I'm going to die.  Naked, sore, and bruised._

-

Laurel Trevelyan remembered who the elf in the shower room with her was.  At first, she hadn't given her a second thought, but upon seeing the pale blue tattoos etched on the side of her face and an intense violet eye flickering at her with indescribable emotions, she realized just where she had seen the young woman.  

_Shit._

She hadn't ever considered herself a bad person; Laurel loved her cat, watered her little terrarium on her kitchen windowsill, offered to take the neighbors' garbage out, paid all her bills on time, and one time in junior high punched a bully of a city elf who was being picked on.  She loved the Maker, fought for fairness, and...

That was it.  Laurel wasn't sure if she was fighting for fairness and safety, anymore.  She had seen how that black-haired Dalish mage held terror in her green eyes before she was taken.  She had seen how that room full of people having a good time looked at her and her comrades in horror, fear, and disgust.  Even the stirrings in the Templar Order was concerning; something was coming, and Laurel laid awake at night wondering just what that could be, and where she would be standing when it did.  

The elf in the shower--oh, what were they calling her?  Alaine?  Al?  Alaran!--calmly shut off the shower and grabbed her towel.  She firmly wrapped it around herself and took her body wash on one of the small shelves and began to walk out, the  _slap-slap_ of her flip-flops echoing throughout the room.  

"We're the good guys," Laurel blurted out.   _Andraste help her,_ why  _did she say that aloud?  It wasn't the best time_ anywhere,  _let alone when she was stark naked in the gym shower._

Alaran paused and slowly turned her head over to look at Laurel.  Oh, wow.  Her eyes really were something else entirely.  

She snorted disbelievingly.  "Really?  You're trying to convince me that you don't lock up innocent people and abuse them in those precious Circles of yours?  In a public shower, no less?"  Alaran's eyes turned into a fire.  Her porcelain complected hands balled into fists.  "You took my  _friends._ You took them when we were playing  _Dance Dance Revolution_ and celebrating the return of a Chantry brother from the humanitarian aid he was doing in Nevarra.  Do you even know their names?"

_Well, she knew one of them.  And boy, was he a bastard._

"Their names are Merrill and Anders."  Alaran took a step closer.  "Merrill loves baking and cries when she sees a trampled flower.  Anders works part-time at Haven Animal Shelter and heals people too poor to go to a hospital.  They're in the band  _Champions of Kirkwall,_ and they kick ass."

"One of them is an abomination," Laurel said heatedly.  "And it tried to  _kill_ you!"

"Justice doesn't like screaming," Alaran snapped back.  "All that chaos you were causing sent me into a flashback of when the  _Conclave exploded and I was inside it."_

Laurel blinked.  She took another step towards the Templar.  "Do you know who sang me Dalish lullabies when I couldn't sleep because of the nightmares?  Do you know who put wards on my dreams when I was too afraid to close my eyes?  Was it the Templars?  What did the Templars do?  Oh, yeah!"  She slapped a hand to her damp forehead.  "They accused me of blowing up the Conclave because I was a suspicious person!  Because obviously being a part of a world politics class trip wasn't normal!  It was a  _mage,_ though, who ensured that I didn't lose my entire hand."  She waved her opened palm in front of Laurel, who saw that there was a rather large, even paler scar cut across it.  "I can live with a mark.  You know what I can't live without?  I can't live without Merrill making me hearth cakes for my nameday.  I can't live without Anders playing video games with me.  I can't live without supporting their weird-ass mage activist shit.  I can't.  Live.  Without.   _Them."_ Alaran now stood toe-to-toe with Laurel, glaring up at her with violent eyes.  "And you took them away," she spat venomously.  "Do you realize what is coming for the Templars?"  The scent of lavender wafted up to Laurel's nose.  "If I were you, I would get prepared.  Because you reap what you sow, Scratch."

Alaran turned on her heels and strode out, leaving Trevelyan stupefied and shivering.  She ducked back under the sanctity of the hot, running water, but nothing could entirely warm her body or ease her mind.  It had been...what really  _had_ just happened?

Had she...had Alaran called her  _Scratch?_ Nobody had called her such a thing since her days as a rookie in the Order.  And  _why_ did Laurel feel immensely guilty and thoroughly chastised?  It was as if a superior she respected and admired had suddenly berated her to the point that she wanted to crawl under a rock and hide.  The whole thing was...weird.

And to make it even more awkward, another woman who had most likely been in the locker room the whole time to hear the conversation warily stepped in and began to shower.

Great.  Just great.

-

"Calm.  You must be calm.  Otherwise you won't be."

Cole gently wrapped a Band Aid around my cut finger.  "Thanks, man," I muttered.  "And I'm trying to be.  It's just..."  I shook my head and sighed.  "I don't usually get nervous.  Especially when it comes to performing."

"This is more than performing, though," Cole continued as he sat back down and propped up his cello.  "You are preparing for something great."  

"And what do you do if that greatness goes awry?" I questioned as I ignored the faint pain in my finger when I put it back to where it belonged on the violin.  

"Run and find Varric, the funny dwarf, or Solas, the bald elf."

"Right.  The chest hair and the reflection should be a beacon for either," I nodded.  "But if either of them don't work?"

"Take the back left exit and run as fast as I can until I can't run any longer."

"Exactly."

"And what if something happens to you?" Cole asked with unhidden worry.  "What if you are hurt?  Where will you go to?"

I gave him a small, reassuring smile.  "Don't you worry.  Don't you worry, child.  Heaven's got a plan for y-me."

"You are quoting a song."

"Yes, yes I am, because you really don't have anything to worry about.  I'm going to be just peachy.  And besides:  the less you know, the safer you'll be.  If I have to book it out of there and questions arise as to where I might be, then it'll be better if you honestly don't know where I am and don't have to lie about it."  I held my violin up.  "Now, let's get to rocking his piece, shall we?"

Out of everybody that was going to be at the gala, I was worried about Cole the most.  He was...well, at least he  _seemed_ fragile.  I still wasn't sure if he actually was, and from the way he kicked ass when I was in danger I had my doubts.  But Cole was my cinnamon roll.  I had to try and keep him as safe as possible.  

The rest of the hour rolled by and before I knew it Solas had arrived to pick me up and take me on a date.  He stopped by the doorway and gave me a small wave.  "Soul-touched," Cole uttered as he gazed between the two of us through his long, lanky blond hair.  "That is nice."

"What are you talking about, boy?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.  Cole shrugged and began packing up his instrument.  I motioned for Solas to come on over.  

"Good evening," Solas said cordially.  He reached down and picked up my backpack.  

"Good evening,  _ma vhenan,"_ I responded.  His ears turned red and he darted his eyes over to Cole, who was lost in his own world zipping up the black case.  "Don't worry, Solas," I said as I nudged my shoulder with his.  "Cole doesn't care one bit that we're together.  See, watch."  I loudly cleared my throat.  "Hey, Cole, what's your opinion of Solas and me?"

"He gazes at you, knowing that you have healed the old, festering hurt inside him that he never thought he would feel subside.  You gaze at him, knowing that even if the world fails and your plans of greatness do not come to pass, as long as he is with you, you are happy."

"Thanks, Cole."  I looked up at Solas.  "See?  Not even an opinion."

Upon hearing my words, Solas slipped his hand in mine, looking more relieved.  We both walked out of the building and into the cold evening air and to his car.  I had to laugh at how he looked with my backpack on his shoulders.  It made me think of something.  "Hey, what were you like in college?"

Solas scoffed a laugh.  "I was many things.  Much of which I am not today."

"Please tell me you were rebellious and, like, had dreads or something," I giggled as he opened the car door for me.  Solas' pause made my jaw drop.  "You did  _not--"_

The door slammed shut and Solas slowly walked to the driver's side.  As soon as he got in I excitedly continued.  "--have dreads?"

"I..." Solas sputtered, then hung his head as he started the car.  "Yes.  I did."  My loud gasp made him cringe.  

"Okay, we're cancelling our date night and going back to your place so I can look at some old pictures."

"No."

"Fine, then we're going back to your place  _after_ the date to look at some old pictures."

He sighed, but glanced at me with a wry smile.  "Anything you say,  _vhenan."_

I almost started thinking about the looming gala just two days away, but with Solas seated next to me I found it easier to push it to the back of my mind, at least for a little while.  Cole had been right.  Solas made me happy.   _More_ than happy.  He was my  _vhenan._ I--

**_Your hands pull away from his and the weight of the world threatens to crush you.  He has plans, he had plans with THIS power and his words are sharp and cold and you've never experienced a pain worse than this you are not Alaran not to him not to anybody you are the Inqu--_ **

Solas abruptly pulled over on the side of the road and puked.

-

So date night was, ironically, canceled.  

-

Merrill sniffed and rubbed her eyes once more to clear them of tears.  She had done enough crying, already; doing any more would just prove again that it did nothing to help the situation she was in.  Merrill had only seen Anders once, and that was on the male side of the Circle grounds.  He had his own personal guards, as well.  One of them was the very same woman who took them in the first place.  

She missed her friends.

She missed Hawke.

The door to her small room swung open and Merrill quickly stood up.  She let out a small whimper when she saw that it was the black-haired woman with dark green eyes and a scar running along her jaw.  Then Merrill's eyes moved down to the object in the Templar's hands.

The woman strode in and plainly held the little daisy resting in a brown clay pot out to Merrill.  "I heard you like flowers.  So...take it."

When Merrill was too hesitant, the woman groaned and pushed her aside so she could set the flower pot on her small windowsill.  "Make sure it doesn't get too cold; there's sometimes a draft that comes in through these windows."

"Are you suggesting that I use magic to do that?" Merrill questioned before she could help herself.  It was innocent enough, she supposed.

The Templar gave her a sharp look.  "Maybe.  Maybe not."

Okay.

She turned to leave, but Merrill blurted, "Is Anders alright?  He hasn't caused any trouble, has he?"

She snorted.  "Other than being a sarcastic asshat?  No."

"And...Justice?  He hasn't caused any problems?"

"The spirit?  No, fortunately."  

Merrill breathed an audible sigh of relief.  "Thank the Creators.  I was worried there, for a little while.  But, er...thank you.  For the flower.  It brightens the room, already."

The woman shifted uncomfortably.  "Well, uh, it's...good day."  She abruptly turned to leave.

"Wait!" Merrill called, stopping her.  "I didn't catch your name.  What is it?"

"...Laurel.  Laurel Trevelyan."

"Thank you, Laurel Trevelyan," Merrill managed to smile.  There was something different about this Templar.  She expected she would see her again in the near future.

"You're welcome, Merrill."

-

"Al, go to bed," Varric sighed as he leaned against the wall that made up a part of the kitchen.  Alaran sat at one of the stools, hunched over her laptop and furiously typing.

"Can't.  I have stuff to do," she responded, then groped for her can of Mountain Dew. 

"No, you have stuff done.  You just don't want to go to bed."

"You know my name, not my story," Alaran said absently with a smirk.   _The_ Smirk.  It gladdened Varric to see that she could still do that when going about her planning and weaving.  He was worried for her.  Ever since that night...she hadn't awoken, well,  _entirely_ the same.  And she of all people most likely knew that.  

Alaran groaned and stretched her arms upward while arching her back.  A yawn was stifled by clamping her berry-colored lips shut.  But she still wasn't budging from her seat.  Al would never admit it, but whenever she stayed up late it meant she was afraid of going to sleep.  

He exaggeratedly shrugged his shoulders and sighed loudly.  "Alright, fine, I give in.  You can sleep in my bed, tonight."

She rolled her eyes.  "Varric, I'm not..."  This time she really did yawn.  It was so big Varric had to reciprocate himself.  "Oh,  _okay,"_ Al grumbled.  She shut her laptop, then slid off the stool to head to his bedroom.  Varric followed and got ready for bed in his own bathroom.  When he came back out, Al was already dead asleep on the side he never occupied.  Varric had to smile at the sight.  She hadn't slept in his bed since the time around the Conclave explosion, and before that she did it whenever she had a particularly bad nightmare.  And he never  _minded_ it, but...

Ah, shit.  Who was Varric kidding?  Al was his daughter.  He never had any problems with her sharing a bed with him so she could get some sleep.  Especially with the gala just two days away.  It had been taking a toll on Al, even if she composed herself incredibly well.  

But Varric prayed that, whatever happened, she would be safe.  They would be safe.

Because the world was getting ready for change.

He was reading a book far later than he should have when Al stirred and muttered something incomprehensible.  Varric ignored her weird gibberish.  It wasn't the worst thing she did while sleeping.  But soon Al turned over to him and opened her eyes.  He could tell by how they looked, though, that she wasn't truly awake.

_"Four, Varric.  I'm Four."_

"No," he chuckled, "you're twenty-three.  Go back to sleep, Al."

 _"Soldier, Poet, Queen, Inquisitor.  Four."_ Her head then promptly hit the pillow and she once again receded into her dreams.

Inquisitor.

_Inquisitor._

**_Inquisitor._ **

That damn woman with a Mohawk who ran into Varric butt-naked was suddenly in his room, clamping an olive-skinned hand over his mouth.  He tried thrashing, but found that he couldn't.  "Shh, Varric," she cooed.  "It'll be alright.  I'm sorry you can't keep this revelation in your mind.  But, frankly, you'll flubberjuck things up if you remember now.  One wrong word and you could send this whole place tumbling down faster than you can say _Pompeii_.  Then Al will be dead.  We'll  _all_ be dead.  Except for Wade and me, of course, but that's not the point.  The point is that I'm going to have to wipe the last few moments from your mind.  You know, if all of you guys could just _**not**  _start to remember the truth at the wrong times, that would be fantastic."  Hallah Lynne glanced down at the book in Varric's lap as he weakly struggled against her.  "Ooh.   _I am the Messenger._ Good read.  Al liked it a lot, which...which is why you're reading it.  Because this is  _her_ conscience and the Orb's taken things from it and cosmic and psychological stuff and goodnight, sleep tight, Varric.  I'll be seeing you soon." _  
_

The scent of lemons filled Varric's nostrils and he almost immediately fell into a deep slumber, without dream and without memory of all that there was.

And, in the middle of the night, when Al jolted awake with heaving breaths, Varric was there to calm her down.  

She was his daughter, after all.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With Thanksgiving break in full-swing I can FINALLY get in a good chapter. And man, the freaking gala is going to be intense!
> 
> Well. Maybe. Maybe it'll be intense. I haven't quite written it, yet, but I plan on having it being intense, so that's something, right? And that whole soldier, poet, king deal? I totally got that from a song by the Oh Hellos. And guess what it's called? Soldier, Poet, King! I wish I was original enough to have come up with it all on my own, but meh, I don't have enough energy or motivation in me to figure out what would be better than that. And I really like the song, too, so giving it some homage was kind of my plan from the start.
> 
> And again, I'd just like to once again thank all of you guys for reading my work. I'm so very glad that this is such a supportive community, and I'm even gladder that I can have the chance to be a part of it. I am thankful for you all. I truly am.
> 
> Please, stay lovely.


	18. Guess Who's Baaaaaack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gala commences.

The great ballroom that the gala was held in was a spectacular, beautiful place.  Ornate chandeliers cast a brilliant glow across the room, tables had been expertly set with pristine, white tablecloths, centerpieces of crystal grace filled the air with a faint, sweet fragrance, people mingled cordially with their peers, and last, but not least, the buffet table was stacked high with all all sorts of delicious foods ranging from Ferelden to Tevinter in origin.  

I partook in neither of the last two.  Not just yet.  I was still surveying everything from the overhanging balcony with Briala, who was without a doubt putting herself in danger with all the Orlesians present.  But I wasn't going to be the one to stop her.  I would do the same, if I were in her position.  We were appearing to have a casual conversation, our body language feigning that we weren't acquainted.  "I assume everything is in place?" she asked idly, her accent sharpening with the low level of her voice.

"Yes," I responded with a smile, and pretended to wave at a nonexistent person down below.  None of my friends had arrived.  The bastards were always late.  "Should anything backfire, my colleagues will be there to quickly escort you away.  As you can imagine, it wasn't hard getting elven college students into being hired by the university for carrying platters around and taking a position in the bathrooms.  But I had them memorize the schematics of this building; any route that may be needed to take, they will know."

"I commend your preparation, but hope that it will not be required," Briala responded, turning her head to look the other way out a window as if we had reached an awkward point in our conversation and weren't sure where to go next.  "I am looking forward to hearing you play, though.  Many have already stamped it as being the pinnacle of the gala.  Even King Alistair himself mentioned that he was looking forward to it, according to one of my people that work as a maid in his palace."

"Come, now, Briala, focus on twisting the emotions of those who truly need it," I sighed as I pulled out a handheld mirror from the clutch I was carrying in my hand.  "Trying to pull on my own feelings would be a waste of effort, tonight."  I lightly wiped a finger under my eye to get rid of nonexistent makeup.  "But, I will not disappoint, if that is what you are hoping to hear from me."  I snapped the mirror shut and gave Briala a nice smile.  "I only wish to hear the same from you."  My eyebrow raised a centimeter.  "You won't disappoint tonight, will you,  _ma falon?"_

She mirrored my smile with her own, but her eyes were sharp and in the process of calculating what the possible meanings could be from my words.  "This is a joint effort tonight, Alaran Lavellan.  If one of us fails, we all do.  I am slightly hurt that you would only scrutinize the actions I will take, tonight."

"Believe me, I scrutinize everybody.  And I have full faith that you will not disappoint, no matter which direction this night may go."  I pointed down to the camera crews and reporters getting ready to air the event.  In the midst of it all was a red-headed woman dressed in purple hues.  Her eyes passed over me without a second glance, but I knew she saw exactly where we both were.  Briala waved them off.   _  
_

"That, I know we can both be sure of.  But, if everything does in some way fail, you know what you are obliged to do."

"Of course."  I leaned in so we could give kisses next to the other's cheeks.  "Be safe, Briala."

"And you as well, Alaran."

-

Solas and I barely had any time together before I was swept away by my professors and instructors that wanted to brag about me to all of their fancy-shmancy friends and peers.  He looked handsome in the sleek black suit and red tie he had wore to the event.  "Is everything in order?" he asked as he hugged me.  Our contact had to be brief and give no notion of our relationship; there were too many eyes on us, already, waiting to use anything and everything against us if they needed to.  And most of them didn't even have any idea of the plans that were to be carried out for tonight.  People were just vicious.  

Little did they know just how vicious I could be.

"Yes," I responded, "everything is set and ready to go.  By all means you don't even have to be here.  I have everything all taken care of."

"Though I am confident that you do, Lady Lavellan, my presence is required by my superiors.   _Ir abelas, lethallan._ But, I can't help but be eager to see how tonight's events will unfold."

"My bets are on Deadpool coming and tearing up the place," I couldn't help but smirk.  "Then we'll all go out for chimichangas and he'll, like, give me one of his toes or something as a token."

Solas' nose wrinkles appeared.  "I still fail to understand your... _favoritism..._ towards him.  Out of all the superheroes you could choose..."

"Hey, now, don't berate my superheroes--"

"Deadpool is  _not_ a superhero--"

"And are we really having a debate on Marvel characters when we both have some important business to attend to?"

It was his turn to smirk.   _"I_ am merely an observer, remember?  It is  _you_ that--"

"Alaran, darling!" Dorian interrupted before Solas and I could really go at it and draw attention to ourselves.  So, I secretly thanked the poster boy of attention-grabbing.  He swept me up in an elegant, quick hug, then bowed to kiss my hand.  I had the good grace not to snort and roll my eyes.  Instead, I bent my knees and dipped my head into a slight curtsy.  

"Good evening, Dorian.  Now tell me that I look gorgeous in this gown of yours."  I lightly gestured to the dress I had donned for the event.  It was a dark, navy blue color with no sleeves.  Except for the matching lace that started at my neckline and reached up to the base of my throat and the small coat of silver sparkles that ebbed the bottom of its hem, the dress was simple.  I didn't need to necessarily demand that my presence be noticed, tonight; the background would be my stage.  

_That'll change, soon._

"Alaran Lavellan," Dorian said, stepping in close and leaning in the same fashion a lover would, "you look  _absolutely stunning._   There is none other in this city that holds such dangerous, divine radiance as you do, tonight.  Every woman in the room will be trying to mimic the manner of your steps and gestures but find that they could never compete.  There will be..."  He suddenly huffed, and then whispered,  "Dammit, I forgot the rest."

Solas gave him a flat but still controlled look.  While twirling his mustache, Dorian muttered lowly, "He tried having me memorize it all over the phone on my way here.  What are friends for, indeed?"

If I had been in any other circumstance my mouth would have made an O shape and my eyes would have widened comically, and I would have smooshed Solas' reddened face with my hands and have him tell me the whole thing.  But, as we were in a very specific situation that required very specific actions, all I could do was smile and tilt my head.  "Thank you for the compliment, Dorian.  I'm sure you'll make some man very happy some day."  That dissuaded some unwelcome listeners.  

"You are most welcome, darling.  I came up with it all on my own."

Solas straightened his tie and cleared his throat.  "Alaran, Dorian, it was a pleasure," he nodded to each of us.  "I wish you luck in performing, tonight."

"Thank you," Dorian replied with a hand to his heart.  "My act is supposed to bring even the coldest of people to tears and enthrall the simplest minds!  Or so they say."

"Oh?  And what "act" would that be?" I questioned surreptitiously.

"Hm.  I have no idea.  That's the best part about it though, isn't it?  This night will be full of surprises!"  

-

"Ooh, I  _love_ your dress, little lamb!" 

Olive hands deftly piled food onto a large porcelain plate.  I slowly turned my head and looked up at the familiar figure.  She currently had her lips pushed to the side of her flawless face.  "You know what this whole thing is missing?  A chocolate fountain.  Like, what's the point of being at a fancy place if they don't have one of those?"  She held up a piece of shrimp and examined it.  "Man, I won't even be able to enjoy this little guy if he's not dipped in the liquid laughter of Benedict Cumberbatch."

"...Okay," I drawled, and then looked down at her attire.  "Hey, you're wearing that dress you bought a while back." _  
_

She swung her hips back and forth.  The gown was a rose gold color with long sleeves and a pooling neckline that revealed defined collarbones and the perfect amount of cleavage.  The hem barely touched the floor, and a single slit ran up to her mid-thigh.  Though she still wore the same amount of minimal makeup, her cheeks were blushed with faint sparkles.  "Told ya there was an important thing we had to go to."

"Oh yeah...where is your significant other?  Is he here tonight?"

She popped the whole shrimp into her mouth--tail and all.  After a few crunchy bites and a giant gulp, she answered, "Yeah, he's out and about.  Just look for appalled expressions and unstable laughter.  He'll be there."

I tried to ignore what she had just eaten and kept my face neutral.  "If you don't mind me asking, what reason are you here for?  Or, who do you work with that brings you to this fine event?"

"I'm here with some friends.  Wanna meet them?  They're pretty important people.  Well, rather, he is."

Before I could even answer she linked her arm with mine and hauled me away, still holding her massive plate of food.  Her strides were so long I could barely keep up and not trip over my own gown at the same time.  I looked down and saw that she...she was barefoot.  Of course she was.  

"I have to get prepared to begin my piece, soon," I told her as we walked.  "So I can't stay long."  To my surprise, we ascended the staircase to the upper level.  

"Oh, that's alright, you're not going to anger Briala or anybody by enjoying yourself, a little," she responded.  I almost faltered, but since we were still going up the stairs it wouldn't have been wise if I did.  Also, I didn't want to raise any more suspicion than I may have had, already.

Who  _was_ this lady?

"I think I'm supposed to be a bodyguard," the woman answered to nobody in particular.  "Tonight, at least.  But I'd like to think of myself as much more than that in any other circumstance."

A bodyguard?  A bodyguard to whom?  Weren't bodyguards supposed to be  _guarding a nearby body?_ "And your husband?  Is he one, as well?" I asked politely.

"Ah, I love how you divert your emotions.  So gracefully, so cordially, so...so...oh, other words that are synonyms for those adjectives.  Or is it adverbs?  I've never been very good with grammar."  She patted my hand with her own, then turned her head down to give me a crooked smirk.  "Not everybody who is here tonight is pitted against you, little lamb.  I hope you'll remember that."   _  
_

We reached the top of the stairs, but continued onward to a restricted area where...

No.

Oh, no.  This wasn't happening.  

Two security men stopped us from the table where the King of Ferelden was seated at.  "Hey, guys, it's all good," she said, patting one on the shoulder in assurance.  "She's just about as important as Alistair, ya know."

They stepped aside without a second pause, and we kept moving.  My heart rate picked up substantially.  "Hey, cheese wheel, I brought you a guest."

_She just called the King of Ferelden a cheese wheel.  Oh, great, I've gotten myself into something that I knew was a bad idea.  A very, very bad idea._

He sighed, and his broad shoulders visibly moved up and down.  "Maker, how many times...oh, never mind."  Alistair Theirin stood.  I was within five feet of him, and I never felt more excited and scared at the same time.  Those two mixed together transformed me into a stuttering idiot.  Well, it  _would_ have turned me into a stuttering idiot had I even been able to talk.  I was surprised I could even smile.  He was so,  _so_ tall.  My life-sized cutout of him hadn't given me false notions, after all.  And the hair--oh, the  _hair--_ it was freaking perfect.  

For some reason, the same time I bit back an  _I love you King Alistair_ from spurting forth, the woman who had drug me here smiled amusingly.  

"Alaran Lavellan, I believe?" Alistair said with a charming, astute smile.  He held out his hand.  "I'm looking forward to your performance, tonight."  He looked to his, uh, bodyguard, and raised an eyebrow that I had memorized every inch of because I had stared at the posters of him in my room for so long.  "I wasn't aware you were acquainted with such lovely people, Mrs. Wilson."

 _Mrs. Wilson_ shrugged.  What a plain name for a woman so...not plain.  "I know a lot of people.  Ally here sold me this lovely dress, did you know that?  Probs not.  But I mean, look, my leg--"

"Slips out like a jellyfish.  Yes, I know.  And I still have no idea what that means," Alistair cut off.  "And where is your dear husband?" he sighed.  "I wouldn't want him setting anything unnecessarily on fire."

She pushed her lips to the side and strode over to the edge of the balcony, placing a hand on her brow to shield her eyes from the lights that shone down.  After a few moments she exclaimed,  _"Ah-ha!_ He's over there by the punch bowl doing, uh..."  Mrs. Wilson spun around and smiled before clearing her throat.  "Nothing is being set on fire.  We're the best mercs in the business, Alistair.  I think we know what we're doing."  She tilted her head as if she was listening to some unheard sound.  "And our little lamb has about thirty minutes before she needs to go and get ready to make our ears orgasm."

King Theirin wrinkled his nose.  For a man who was royalty, he didn't seem to particularly act like it.  "Your usage of description is commendable, Mrs. Wilson, but usually off and pretty disturbing."

She shrugged her shoulders unashamedly, then gestured for me to take a seat at the table.  I moved to pull out my chair, but Alistair stepped in and pulled it out for me.  "I may be a cheese wheel, but I  _am_ at least a gentlemanly one," he said to me.  

"Thank you," I managed to say with some semblance of a smile.

Mrs. Wilson leaned in close as she ate another whole shrimp.  "This is where you ask him questions, little lamb," she whispered loudly.  "Before, you know, things start  _to get radical."_

_-_

"You dust the floor with what everybody compares to starlight, yet you know what starlight really is."  Cole then blinked and gave an absent smile as he gave his cello some final tuning.  "Ah, you don't.  But he does."

"You do realize that if you put all that crap on Tumblr you could be famous," I said, glancing up from tightening my violin bow.  "Well, Tumblr famous.  And add pictures of tree leaves or graffiti on a brick wall or, like, pebbles or something.  That'll amp it up."

"Are you nervous?"  Even Cole's questions didn't really sound like questions.  They were more like...vague statements.  

"A bit, I suppose," I shrugged with a half turtle-frown.  "But nerves are good.  If I didn't have any, it meant that I didn't care."

"That is very wise," Cole said in his same airy, neutral voice.  

"Ah, I think I just got it from a book or somewhere."  We heard our introductions being made from behind the red velvet curtain.  The stage Cole and I were on wasn't a big one; it was meant for small performances similarly like what we were both about to do.  "Usually people think I'm a young lady filled with philosophical and knowledgeable insights, but really I'm kind of brimming with bullshit."

"I don't believe that," he said.  We positioned ourselves to look presentable as soon as the curtains were drawn back.  "You are special.  Different, but special."

"Why thank you, Cole.  I've always wanted to be called different," I snorted, but not unkindly.  

"N-no.  Not like that.  You came back different.  It's a good different, though.  A stronger different.  But be careful."

My brows furrowed.  "Okay, really, what are you talking about?"

His pale blue eyes, which had been intently focused on me, became distant once more.  Ugh.  I hated when he did that.  "I confuse myself too, sometimes.  But thank you for listening, anyways."

I pursed my lips briefly before the curtains were fully drawn back.  "You're welcome, Cole."

The applause gave me time to scan the ballroom before I was to begin playing.  Almost all at once I perceived Varric, Vivienne, and Solas smiling at me with slight apprehension, elven servants calmly and efficiently getting into their places, Briala staring at me with an indescribable expression from a back table, Leliana observing me with the other reporters stationed, Mrs. Wilson standing next to King Theirin with her husband on the other side of her, who a pinkie shoved in his earhole and twisting it, and other machinations that were taking place by insanely rich people just wanting to be impressed and entertained before they made any donations to a school of education.  Most of them here tonight only wanted to be in front of the cameras.  

Well, they would certainly get a show.

My muscle-memory kicked in, and Cole and I played with the right amount of liveliness and harmony.  While we performed, though, I stole discreet glances whenever I dared to, and saw bodies moving silently to their positions.  As all eyes were on Cole and me, the real action was beginning.  I wished I had time to warn at least Briala to stay away from the Wilsons.  Something about them was just...dangerous.  Sure, they were both likable crackpots, but I was smart enough to recognize the instinct that told me they weren't people to be reckoned with.  Even if Mrs. Wilson was smiling proudly down at me.  And if they were King Theirin's personal mercs for hire, they would protect him and follow any of his orders so they could get paid.  Hopefully they would just get him out of the ballroom if things went south.  

Too soon were Cole and I finished.  He had played beautifully; I would most likely perform with him again sometime in the future.

_If I live long enough to have a future._

The two of us got a standing ovation as we took our bows and received handshakes from multiple important people that I knew the names of but didn't bother to put in my head.  I wanted to get off stage so I could get out of Briala's way.  All these months of planning, and we were finally going to make a stand.  The elves, my People, they would finally be recognized as an entire race that would no longer be ignored.  They would no longer be oppressed.  They would no longer have to fight for things that nobody should fight for.  They... _we_ would start to make people see that we, too, want to pursue our own happiness as much as they.

Briala began making her advancement towards the stage.  Leliana saw, and moved her crew closer to get a front view of what would transpire.  No matter which way things went, tonight, she would ensure that she got a full coverage of it.  Everybody was in place.  It was all finally going to commence.  I wanted to rush over to Solas and watch all of it unfold with our hands intertwined.  

I turned my head briefly up to Mrs. Wilson, unable to help but wonder what she may have been thinking as Cole and I stepped back and allowed Briala to take her place.  Wary murmurings were beginning to stir amidst the loud chatter.  Her grim, emerald eyes locked with my violet ones, and for a moment my feet glued to the ground.

Dread settled in the pit of my stomach when I saw her mouth the words,  _Get out of there, now._

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is such a pleasure to see you all on this fine evening," Briala started, her Orlesian-accented voice carrying across the room due to the microphone she now stood in front of.  "I hope you do not mind my interruption.  It will only take a short while.  I am sure many of you know who I am, yet--"

The doors to the ballroom burst open.  My eyes tore away from Mrs. Wilson's, and to my horror I watched as police officers and Templars alike poured into the room, the latter members pushing people out of their way.  In the lead was the infamous Knight-Commander Meredith.  "Arrest her," she spoke, pointing to Briala.  "This woman has committed crimes against the Chantry, Ferelden, Orlais, and the Free Marches.  And apprehend any and all elven servants.  We have reason to believe that they were consorting with Briala to murder everybody at this gala who would not condone their actions to start a rebellion against the very people who have protected them."  The levels of panic spiked.  I could nearly taste the fear and confusion on my tongue.

"Templars," Briala spat, unfazed by the small army standing before her.  "What business do you have here?  Have you captured all the mages and stuck them in pens like sheep to the slaughter?  Is that why you are here?"

**_She's stone she's stone she's stone what is she doing here only those who are alive can be here this isn't a fragment of a memory she's here and she--_ **

Cole gently but firmly grabbed my waist as I nearly crumpled to the ground.  To anybody who didn't know me would have thought that I was growing weak from fright.  I took deep, steady breaths, however, and forced myself to listen.

"We persecute any who willfully goes against the Maker," Meredith answered.  "You being one of them."

"This is madness!" Briala exclaimed.  "You have gotten away with such actions for far too long.  You  _will_ be stopped."

"By who?" Meredith demanded.

"By me."

The whole ballroom turned to look at the King of Ferelden descending the stairs, loosely flanked by Mr. and Mrs. Wilson and a few other guards.  And with camera crews focused on him, as well, most of Thedas was probably tuning in.  "Knight-Commander Meredith," he said, his voice carrying crisply and coldly.  "I don't believe we've met."

Hesitation sparked in her insanity-driven eyes.  "Your Majesty," she said quickly, then dipped into a small bow.  "I did not expect--"

"No, you did not.  But I am suddenly glad that I did."  Alistair reached the bottom of the stairs and calmly walked up to the Knight-Commander, staring down at her with a penetrating glare.  "The Templars have no business here.  Nor any police officers that came to aid them.  If I am not mistaken, I still believe that there are specific laws in Ferelden that disallow any police force collaborating with the Templar organization for anything else than national emergencies and humanitarian relief."  

I watched the officers dispersed throughout the room shift with varying degrees of discomfort and anxiety.  

So did King Alistair.  "Ah!  You bullied them into believing there was an actual threat, did you  not?"  

"The threat is--" Meredith began to fume.

His face grew dark.  "I am not finished," he cut off harshly.  "In doing such, you have broken several serious treaties in Ferelden.  I'm sure the Chantry will respect any and all decisions I make regarding the punishment you and your men here rightfully deserve."

**_She's supposed to be in the Free Marches she's not supposed to be here WHY IS SHE HERE?_ **

"Cole," I whispered aloud in a trembling voice, "something isn't right."

"No," he readily responded.  "Something is not.  It never has been, but now it is more not."  

"Despite whatever threat there  _may_ have been, it seems that the greater one here tonight is what I am currently looking at.  Knight-Commander Meredith, you will  _immediately_ vacate--" _  
_

_"No."_

The world seemed to fall silent.  

"Too long has this land been diseased with those who would desecrate the sanctity of the Maker and Andraste," Meredith boomed.  Her Templars, instead of gaping at their leader like the rest were, gazed at her with respect and duty, soaking in each word that poured from her poisonous mouth.   _Oh, no_.  "This infection has weakened even the sacred Templar order, who once held strong against those who dared rise against it!  But no more."  She placed a hand over her breast where her badge rested.  Except, it was... _red,_ and not silver.  Every other Templar in the room had one just like it, as well, and mimicked her action.  

Mrs. Wilson calmly but firmly gripped King Alistair's arm and began making him backtrack so he could distance himself from the Knight-Commander, while simultaneously whispering something unintelligible to her husband.  His eyes flickered to me and he gave a single nod.  "Let those who are true and pure come forth and enact justice!  Red Templars!"  She pointed at Briala with a vicious snarl.  "Take her, and anyone who dares stand in the way of our righteous path!  Now!" _  
_

I think anyone could guess what happened next.

Everything went to shit.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the life of me, I couldn't have Samson be the villainous leader of the Red Templars. I've never seem him as truly a bad guy (in case you didn't realize that), and since this whole place is heavily sculpted by Al's own mind, she automatically put one of the worst templars she could think of in Samson's stead. 
> 
> But this also means that Meredith isn't quite dead in all that, er, particular stone casing, because the consciousness of those who are pulled into this reality have to be alive. The corruption in her mind had been unwittingly drawn into the construct, just like the minds of so many others. So, uh, I guess all I can say is...shit is going to go down?
> 
> And I'm sorry I've been so delayed in updating! Adulting is hard. Also, you can follow me on Tumblr, if you like, at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief
> 
> *points finger at you. Yes, you* I want YOU to stay lovely.


	19. This is LITERALLY The Worst Gala Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Says the title with a Chris Traeger grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't noticed, I've been watching a lot of Parks and Recreation, lately.

Briala fought.  She fought well.

But not even she could withstand taking a bullet to her shoulder.  Everybody watched in horror as the leader of the elven rebellion toppled silently to the ground.  I was close enough that her blood sprayed onto my face and chest.  It was hot and real and terrifying.  

Screams erupted and broke the numbness I had momentarily been trapped in.  I broke free from Cole's grasp and rushed over to the elven woman who had--as much as I was reluctant to acknowledge it--helped me as much as I had helped her.  

Uncaring of what happened to my dress, I hoisted her up and placed a hand over the bullet wound in hopes of staunching the blood flow.  "Y-you know what you must do," she rasped.  "Now run, before they catch you, too.   _Run, Alaran."_

I stared at her for a split second before giving a single nod.  Then I grabbed Briala's hand and placed it where mine was and stood with trembling knees.  Templars were apprehending elven servants--no, they were apprehending  _my friends--_ and the police present weren't doing anything about it.  They were just trying to protect everybody who wasn't an elf and stem the mania that was causing a blockage at all exits.  

It was purely by coincidence that Knight-Commander Meredith locked her gaze with mine.  We stood there, unmoving amidst the chaos.  Maker, I hated this woman.  And I would not run from her.  I would  _never_ run from the people who stood in the way of a better world.

She raised her gun at me.  I wiped the blood on my face with the back of my hand and tilted my chin up with a smirk.  Distantly, I heard Varric and Solas screaming my name.  Neither my  _vhenan,_ Dorian, or Vivienne could cast any spells that would save me; the air was thick with the Templar's dispel.  I was on my own.  

"Not so fast, dipshit!" a voice yelled.  Meredith barely had time to turn her head before she was clocked with the butt of a katana.  Her cold blue eyes rolled in the back of her head and she crumpled to the floor.  Mr. Wilson turned her over with a foot so she was facing downward.  "You know," he mused as he looked down at the Templar commander "you really are the asshole of Mephisto.  Wasn't sure if I believed it, but hey!"  He spread his arms wide and nearly decapitated a passerby with his weapon.  "You busted my cap with that!"  He then pointed at me.  "You.  You come with me.  Happy wife, happy life, ya know?  'Cause she, like, wants me to protect you.  Since you're important and all."

"I'm not leaving here until everybody is safe--" I began, but Mr. Wilson just laughed and put his katana in the sheath strapped to his back.  In five long strides he hooked his arm around my waist and threw me over his shoulder.  "Hey!  Put me down, jackass!"  I twisted and elbowed him in the back of his blond head.  

"Name-calling isn't nice," Mr. Wilson sang as he walked quickly to the exit.  Cole, surprisingly, was still standing there with a few unconscious Templars scattered around him.  "You, Creeper's Apprentice," Mr. Wilson shouted at my partner, "you're with us."

"Okay," Cole said, still firmly clutching his bloody bow.  Just...just  _how?_ _  
_

"We've got to get Solas and Varric and--"

"Shorty and Baldy?  Nah, they got it.  And there's something about you being 'imperative to the cause,' that makes your safety...imperative.  Or whatever," Mr. Wilson interjected.  We made it out into the back hall, but I still hadn't been set down.  "Am I right, older version of the kid from  _Sixth Sense?"_ He hit Cole's shoulder with the back of his hand.

"Yes.  Grinding, grating on her soul wearies her, yet she does not intend to fall."

"Yeah, yeah," Mr. Wilson muttered.  

"You came because she asked you to.  Love, bursting, burning in your heart and you don't want to be away from her, even though you know she's the most pow--"

 _"Nyyyyyeahhh!"_ Mr Wilson screeched.  "Stop!  Being!  Creepy!"

"Don't call my friend creepy!" I shouted, and elbowed him in the back of the head again.  "You're--" _elbow_ "practically--" _elbow_ "kidnapping--" _elbow_ "me!"  Then I was batted in the head by one of the katanas strapped to his back, which made me snarl.

Mr. Wilson groaned loudly.  "If you knew who I was, you'd be licking the toe jam between my feet--"

_"EW!"_

"By the way, this dress is quite silken and crafted of high-quality material.  Dea--I mean, uh,  _Mr. Wilson_ approves."

"You smell like onions," I sneered. 

"It's my natural musk!"

"What did you do, roll around in a taco bus?"

"No, but it would be more fun than doing this!  Do you think I like--"  He jangled me around a few times, "holding a scrawny-ass elf and running from freaky red-lyrium Templars with young adult Gage from  _Pet Sematary?"_

The screaming from the ballroom echoed into the hall.  The helplessness I felt as I was carried away nearly brought tears to my eyes.  There were supposed to be elves already in these halls if anything went wrong.  There was a  _plan,_ and I had been the main one to orchestrate it all.  But _this_...never in my life had I ever been able to prepare for such a devastating situation.

But I had still failed.  And now, instead of staying and making sure everybody was safe or at least  _not killed_ , I was being whisked away by a dude I hardly knew.  I should have done more.  But  _what_ kind of more?

"Alaran!"

I straightened my back so I could crane my head around.  "Solas!" I shouted.  His face transitioned from utter relief to cold fury.  He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small black baton which, upon a light twist, grew into a sleek staff.  

"Put her down," he commanded darkly to Mr. Wilson.  

"Oh--you know what?  Here!  You can have her!  No wonder why my lady love likes her so much; she's a complete nut-buster!"  Mr. Wilson hefted me off his broad shoulder and literally threw me at Solas.  I flung my arms outwards in time to wrap them around him.  I was caught firmly enough, but Solas stumbled backwards at the force of my body hitting his.  The comfort of his presence was enough to make me whimper and bury my head into his neck.  

"I don't mean to be  _that_ guy," Mr. Wilson said from behind us.  "But we seriously gotta go.  That lady I knocked out was pretty scary.  I think she'll want to twist my nipples off and eat them with Nutella."

Solas wrinkled his nose and opened his mouth to say something, but I stopped him.  "Babe, it's not even worth it.  Let's just...let's just get out of here as quickly as possible.  We've got a lot of things to discuss."

He gave a nod, but kissed me first before saying anything else.  "Yes.  Let us depart."

"Hey, did you see my wife kicking any ass out there?" Mr. Wilson asked as we started moving, again.  "You know, the one that has a Mohawk and an amazing rack?"

"Your wife...?"  Solas looked puzzled for a few moments before shaking his head.  "No, I lost sight of her when she moved King Theirin out of harm's way."

"So no killing?" he prompted almost eagerly.  

"Not that I was aware of."

His face visibly fell.  "Aw.  I don't want to pay up three fingers."

"What?" I questioned.

"I said I don't want to pass up free wingers."

"That's not what you said--"

The conversation was never finished because one of the side doors burst open and Templars poured through.  They immediately saw Solas' staff and dispelled his magic.  He, Cole and I braced ourselves for a fight, but Mr. Wilson simply pushed past us with his katanas in hand.  "Wait, no--" I exclaimed, outstretching my hand to try and grip his suit jacket.  But he moved too swiftly, and before  I could say anything else we had to watch as sharp silver blades sliced through bellies and throats.  I should have been disgusted and sick at the sight, but...

_But I've hacked people to pieces too many times to count._

We stepped over the bodies and continued.  I would worry about the repercussions of the deaths incurred later.  Now, though, just getting out of the building was the first and foremost thing.

"Do you know what happened to everybody else?" I asked Solas.  Our hands were gripped tightly together.  

"Varric is incredibly resourceful.  He got Dorian and Vivienne out.  Of that I am almost positive.  I would have gone with them, but I was cut off by Templars.  So I took one of the escape routes you informed me about."  His face grew grim.  "Alaran, they took so many... And they killed those who put up a fight.  I am uncertain that Briala is even alive."

"When I left her, she was.  And I doubt Knight-Commander Meredith would let her die that easily when she's committed countless crimes against the Maker."  I paused, then whirled my head to Mr. Wilson.  "Wait, what did you say about red lyrium?"

He made a face.  "Dammit.  I gotta bounce."  He was talking to himself more than anything.  "I  _told_  babe I'd mess something up.  And what do you do when you mess up?"  Mr. Wilson pushed through the final door that led outside and into the cold night air.  He flashed an open-mouthed, slightly unhinged grin, then booked it into the night.

"Please, let's get out of here," I said to Solas.  He took off his suit jacket and helped me put it on.  I felt Briala's blood caked to my skin even more, now, since we were out in the freezing temperatures.

"We cannot go to the parking lot.  It will be chaos, and certain authorities will want answers to questions that we will be thrown in jail for giving."

"So we just don't give it to them."

"The result will be the same.  Though the television crews there most certainly caught Knight-Commander Meredith's publicly announced nullification, they also recorded what Briala was doing just moments before.  The elves will not be looked upon any more mercifully than they were before tonight.  We also cannot risk the chance of being sent to a hospital."

A shudder ran through me upon hearing those words.  "No.  No hospital."

"Then we run," Solas stated as he retook my hand in his.  "Cole, can you keep up?"

"Yes," he answered simply.  I reached down and unstrapped the silver heels I was wearing.  The frigid pavement instantly began freezing my feet.  

"Which way should we run?  My house isn't too far.  It...it  _should_ be safe enough to go back there.  But I'm going to lead you guys through the back alleys; it probably wouldn't look too innocent and unassuming to have the three of us running down the street from a crime scene."

"That would be wise," Solas agreed, loosening his tie with his free hand so it could be more breathable.  "We should hurry, however; this place will be swarming with friends and foes alike, soon."

I took a deep breath to at least try to steady my racing heart.  It didn't help.

-

As soon as I opened the door to the apartment Varric was there.  He had been too worried to sit, it looked like, so it took only a few short steps for him to be crushing my ribs with his arms as he embraced me.  "Alaran," he choked, "Maker, Alaran, don't do that again."

"I won't," I whispered as I hugged Varric back.  "Believe it or not, but I wasn't too fond with what happened."

"My dear," Vivienne glided in as soon as I was released from Varric's grip, "I suggest we get you cleaned up, yes?"

I gave a nod as my adrenaline subsided and everything began to settle in.  We were just headed down the hall together when the door furiously burst open.  I spun around, expecting to see Templars or police officers pouring in to arrest everybody for some unbased reason.  Instead Hawke charged through with Isabela and Sebastian close behind him.  He made a beeline for me.  "Al!" he practically shouted, then picked me up off the floor with a loud, relieved sigh.  "I saw you on the news.  I--I watched everything.  Nobody was picking up their phone and I was so damn worried..."  He pulled back enough to examine the blood spatter still on me.  Color drained from his face.  "Maker, i-is this...?"

"No, it's not, Hawke," I said, a weak smile darting across my mouth.  I was set back down on the floor and found that my knees were shaky.  "I'm not hurt."

"If you excuse us, Garrett, but getting Alaran cleaned is more important than the uncomfortable fondling you're doing," Vivienne said in her airy, condescending tone.  She plucked one of Hawke's hands off of me before it could continue rubbing up and down my shoulder.  He sneered at her but took a step back.  

So she wasn't the only one who saw the thunderstorm Solas had conjured not only in his eyes, but around his entire self.  Okay.  I'll just...I'll just put a pin in that one and come back to it later.

Madam de Fer wasn't leaving me alone while I bathed, which was probably a good thing.  I wasn't sure if I could handle being alone with my thoughts for more than a short period of time.  She took a seat on the closed lid of the toilet and asked me of how I escaped, and in return gave details about how she got out of there with Varric and Dorian.  Apparently, Varric had sensed that shit was hitting the fan the moment Knight-Commander Meredith walked in, so the second most backs were to them he shuffled them out near the edge of the door.  Solas would have been with them the entire time, but as soon as Briala was shot he had not simply gotten "cut off" like he said he had, but raced forward through the crowds to try to reach me.  Varric was nearly behind him doing the same thing, but Dorian gripped him by his collar and hauled him out before any of them would get killed.  Because, while Dorian's clothes--which they all were wearing--were resistant to magic, they weren't resistant to bullets.  They also witnessed me getting hauled off by one of the guards protecting King Alistair, so they assumed that I was somewhat safe.  

"If I may ask, my dear, but what did that boy with you do to get blood on his cello bow?" Vivienne asked as I washed my body with lavender-scented soap.  I then took a loofah and scrubbed my shoulders, neck, and arms to get Briala's blood off of me.  

"You know, I didn't really catch it," I said, grimacing slightly when I saw the crusted blood had tinted the foamy soap red.  "And I'm not sure I exactly want to know.  He was just standing there, cool as a cucumber even though Templars were lying beaten and unconscious all around him."

"My dear, I don't recommend scrubbing your skin so hard that it'll come off," Vivienne commented idly as she looked at her phone.  I eased up in the ferocious speed I had been going.  Still focused on her screen, she continued on to say, "You and I both know that, though I love you and care for your well-being, it is not the only reason I'm here.  I am extremely curious as to what your next move as the new leader of the elven rebellion will be..."

My cheeks puffed out from retaining air, and I and sunk down underneath the water so I could escape reality until my lungs cried out for oxygen.  The silence offered was relaxing, and I basked in the warmth that enveloped my body.  Tendrils of white hair wisped against my cheeks and forehead.  I then turned over so Viv could get a nice, good look at my white ass.  I was planning on just holding my breath until I passed out and then inhale water and drown, but before I could the temperature grew unbearably cold.  I made an underwater turtle-frown and rolled back up, breaking the surface and sucking in air.  "F-f-fu-"

Vivienne dipped her finger back into the water and let the heat return.  I scowled and flipped her off with both fingers.  She only raised an immaculate eyebrow on an otherwise expressionless face.  "You'll never make any friends with that attitude, Alaran."

"Who needs friends when you've got anime and Tumblr?" I shot back.  My question didn't even rise her to the challenge.

"Let me repeat myself, my dear.  What will your next move be?  Retaliation?  Vengeance?  Domination?  Or nothing at all?  Are you even willing to take Briala's place?"

"Let me remind you that Solas will step in, as well," I pointed out as I put a glob of shampoo in my hand.

"Ah, yes, the lovers uniting elves and mages alike, standing against dark and villainous enemies, and carving a whole new world together."  There were several layers of sarcasm in Vivienne's tone.

"Hey, now," I smirked, "we don't even have a magic carpet to take a ride on for that kind of stuff."

It took her a couple of moments to get what I was saying.  Eyes closed and a chest expanded to maintain calm.  My smirk broadened.  It felt nice to have it naturally return.  "To be honest, Viv," I said as I washed my hair, "I don't really know what the next step is.  First I want to see what every nation has to say about this, and what the Templars are going to do about the break in their ranks, led by a very,  _very_ powerful madwoman.  Maker, for all we know this could be a full-blown coup.  If that's the case, then we're in for a bumpy ride."  I dipped back into the water to rinse my hair out.  "I guess one of the first steps will be is to simply regroup and hide any tracks that may be out in the open and easily traced.  Hopefully nobody's scattered to the wind just yet.  I doubt it, but there will certainly be a loss of support because people are afraid."  I paused briefly.  "Hell, I'm afraid."

"I doubt that will stop you, though, my dear," Vivienne said with a hint of a smile.  

"Nah, it won't."

-

The news reported what we already knew.  Which was, basically, nothing.  I ended up just shutting off the television and made sure that everybody got home safe.  Vivienne and Dorian would ride together, and Varric would take Hawke back to his place while Isabela and Seb drove to wherever they came from.  I wondered about those two, sometimes.  The Champion of Kirkwall had literally run here like he was freaking Chris Traeger when he saw what had happened at the gala.  Isabela and Sebastian had left about ten minutes later in their car and still caught up with Hawke about the same time he reached the front entrance.  Apparently they had seen me in the background when Briala getting shot was broadcast.  I was reluctant to believe them, at first, but upon seeing the footage replayed by ONN, I observed that I really was in view.  I had the chance of seeing myself visibly flinch in shock as backspatter hit me.  Then, thankfully, the cameras cut out.  

Which left Solas and me.  I had been driven to the gala, so my car was parked outside of the apartment.  Varric wasn't too fond of the idea of letting me drive all by myself, but knew that I would still do what I wanted because I was my own person.  So, after drying my hair and throwing on leggings and my battleaxe velociraptor sweatshirt, we departed.  My eyes were already strained with fatigue, but I forced them to stay open.  I was expertly trained in the art of such, with all the papers I've had to write and things I was responsible for organizing way past my bedtime.

"Alaran," Solas said as we drove up the hill to his townhouse.  The streets were empty; people were probably smart enough to hole themselves up in their homes after what had just happened only a few miles away.  "I will only ask this once, if you answer honestly:  how are you?"

A sarcastic retort automatically sprung to my lips, but I swallowed it and said truthfully, "I'm...not sure.  I wish I could say that everything was a blur, but it really wasn't.  I remember it all perfectly--down to the frayed strands of hair on Knight-Commander Meredith's head and the heat of Briala's blood seeping into my hand as I tried to staunch the flow from her bullet wound."  My voice was low and soft, and reverberated inside my chest.  "I just want it all to be okay.  I'm worried for everybody that was taken by the Templars, as well as all the mages trapped in the Circles.  My heart aches for all the lives lost.  I...I'm afraid of failing.  I'm afraid of unknowingly being steered off-course."  I glanced at Solas.  "I'm afraid for you.  I'm afraid for my family and friends.  But...but I'm also not afraid.  I know what is required of me.  Of us.  My faith is greater than my fear."

Solas sat in silence for a few moments as he processed my words.  "And where does your faith lie?" he questioned eagerly, hesitantly.  

"In myself.  In others.  In the belief that good  _does_ prevail.  In the belief that I..."  One of my hands lifted off the steering wheel and fluttered in the air for a couple seconds before dropping soundlessly back where it was, before.  "That I'm good."

The same hand was taken and a kiss was pressed upon the back of it.  "If there is anything that I know is true," Solas muttered, his breath flicking on my skin and causing goosebumps to prickle up my arm, "it is that you are good.  You are more than good."

"And you?  How are you?" I reciprocated.  He pulled back and gave a short sigh, but put my hand on his lap and stroked it absently with his thumb. 

"I am...shaken.  Not terribly, but enough to take notice.  Seeing you standing in defiance against the Knight-Commander with such resolution...there have been seldom times when I was more terrified."  Solas had his head turned out the window so I couldn't see his face.  My heart wrenched.  

Then he looked back to me.  "The next time that happens, I expect to be at your side.  Because you will not be alone in this.  Whatever comes, we face it together."

We pulled up to the curb outside Solas' townhouse.  I unbuckled my seatbelt and gave him a loving kiss.  He clung to my lips.  The fingers lightly digging into my scalp betrayed hunger and desperation.  "And so we shall," I whispered.  I slipped a hand free and turned off the car ignition.  "Let's go inside."

Solas, being the considerate boyfriend he was, pulled away, though there was a large amount of reluctance.  "But Varric--"

"Will be alerted that we passed a few Templar and police vehicles," I finished.  His eyes glinted, but he didn't smile.

"You would lie to your guardian?"

I opened the car door and stepped out.  Solas followed without pausing.  "He's lied to me about the women he's spent the night with," I shrugged.  "I'd like to think I learned such traits from him."

I didn't have to look up to know that I would see a smile.  "Though I have the feeling I should argue, I somehow cannot bring myself to do so," Solas stated as he unlocked his door, eyes reflecting in the darkness.  

"Thank the Maker," I exclaimed.  The door swung open and we stepped inside.  "I was beginning to w--"

My sentence was cut off by a passionate kiss.

You know, now that I thought of it, Solas did that a lot.  How rude.

-

Anders' cell door opened.  He looked up from the book he had been reading while laying on his bed, eyebrows furrowing at the disturbance.  There was only one person who ever opened his door, and she usually did such with blatant disregard for the poor, creaking hinges or the wall that the door always slammed against.  

But it was still Laurel.  She was dressed in her uniform, except her mane of thick, curly black hair was loose and unkempt.  That was  _probably_ against protocol.

_It looked good on her._

He closed his book.  Well, rather,  _Varric's_ book.  Andraste's dainty toes, but he sure knew how to write an awful story.   _Swords and Shields_ was...no, he couldn't even describe how painful it was.  "Scratch!" he exclaimed with sardonic mocking.  "I'm sorry, but you know my business hours.  Come back tomorrow between eight and five.  It is after five, right?  I lose track of time so easily here in his little hole.  Say, you haven't..."  He faltered.

Laurel was standing there stoically.  Her jaw was clenched and her knuckles were closed so tightly they turned white.  Anders first thought she was furious for some unknown reason, but upon further examination, saw that her pine green eyes were rimmed red, making them look like a deep well of black.  Full pink lips quivered slightly.  "What's wrong?" he asked, setting the book aside and standing up.  "Please don't tell me you're crying because the cafeteria stopped making pudding.  There have been more than enough tears shed for that."

Anders was in close enough proximity that he promptly received a punch to the shoulder from Laurel.  "No," she snapped.  "The Templars, they..."  Her strong demeanor cracked, and a fresh tear trickled from an eye.  Anders watched it roll down her freckled cheek a little ways before angrily wiping it off.  "Knight-Commander Meredith and a large number of other members broke off from the Templar Order."  She swallowed to clear the hitch in her voice.  "They openly declared their "reformation" on national news, at the gala."

His blood ran cold.   _Alaran..._

"Meredith shot Briala," Laurel went on.  "They're going after the mage and elven rebellions.  They're going after anything that defies the will of the Maker.  They're--"

Screams erupted from the hall.  Laurel's visage snapped back into place.  "They know what you are," she said as she hurriedly tied her hair back with a band.  A roar blasted the air, signifying that a mage had turned into an abomination.  The air grew thick with a mixture of magic and dispelling.  "They will come for you."

Anders grabbed Varric's book.  As much as he despised its very creation, the Maker knew he was going to finish it.  Which meant that he couldn't die.

Laurel reached inside her uniform.  He stilled and tensed, fearing for a brief second that she was going to do the deed herself.  She surely had threatened it more times than he could count.

Instead, though, she revealed Anders' retractable staff.  He breathed an audible sigh of relief and took it before she fully extended it out to him.  "Let's go," Laurel said as she took out her twin pair of batons from their holsters.  Despite the dire situation, Anders was slightly excited for getting the chance to see her in action with those things.  

"What about Merrill?"  They started down the compound's hall.  Behind him, he saw mages lined up against the wall and on the ground as Templars made them Tranquil.  Already he could see those who had fought back were dead, pools of blood staining the concrete floor.

Justice surged up inside him.  Laurel was answering his question, but he failed to hear her over the deafening thunder of rage.  He found himself charging back.  "Anders, no!" Laurel shouted.

The world was shrouded in blue.

-

The healer had the bloodiest hands.

Except, this time, Anders hadn't healed with them.

He hadn't killed, either.  But there was a lot of hitting and kicking and, in a few cases, biting.  For some reason, he held back from killing the Templars that were turning his kin into mindless beings.  They deserved death.  They deserved justice.  

But the thought of Laurel looking at him with horror was enough to make Anders cease.

Merrill, on the other hand, was found running through one of the compound's halls, leading a group of frightened mages away from Templars.  She was encased in a layer of rock, which, while dinged in some places, remained wholly intact.  In some places the stone was darkened with blood.  "What the...?" Anders could only whisper.

"Hello!" Merrill exhaled, her bright green eyes alight with...Maker, was that  _anger_ he saw?  No, it was something much more.  "I'm glad to see you two!  But we must move quickly; I managed to block off the Red Templars a corridor back with a wall of ice, but I can imagine they've chopped through it by now."  Her eyes focused on Laurel and she smiled.  "I'm glad you're here."

Anders looked between the two of them as they started running, again.  His mouth was pulled down into what Alaran would call a turtle-frown.  "How do you two know each other?"

"Laurel checked up on me almost daily," Merrill readily answered.  "We took care of Bradsworth together."

"Bradsworth?"

"The flower in her room," Laurel explained.  "We named it Bradsworth.  After my grandfather."

"He is an old soul," Merrill said reverently.  "I even brought him with me, see?"  She waved a hand near her chest and the rock crumbled away to reveal a small, healthy daisy encased in a bubble of air.  Its roots were twined within the rock.  

Anders decided to ignore the fact that it took a _highly_ skilled mage to accomplish such a feat.  Instead he spoke a simple, "Lovely."  Then they were on the move, again.

A Templar ambushed them around the corner.  Laurel took action first, and knocked him on the side of the head with one of her batons.  He crumpled, but was still conscious to groan in pain and hold a hand to the spot where he had been hit.  "Andraste's tits, Scratch, it's me!" he shouted in a thick Starkhaven brogue.  Laurel gasped and instantly knelt beside him.

"Shit, Rylen, don't do that!  You could have been..."  She swallowed.  "You could have been one of them."

"And become a deranged lunatic?" he laughed mirthlessly.  "Thanks, but I'd rather not."

"Is he on our side?" Anders asked, his staff still half-pointed at the man.  

"Yes," Laurel said as she helped him up.

"To be more specific, I'm on the side of not wanting to kill innocents," Rylen corrected.  "Some mages here are not on that side."

"What did you expect, when Templars are turning them Tranquil?" Anders snarled.  Justice roiled in him once more.

"Sorry to break it to ya, lad, but not every mage here is good.  If you believe that your kind are the holy perfection of the Maker, then you're a right fool," Rylen said back, but it held no malice or contempt.  That threw Anders.  "Let's just get the hell outta here."

"Agreed," Laurel said.  The small group started moving once more.  Rylen knew the compound better than Laurel and Merrill, so when they had been cut off he lead them through alternate routes.  Because of him, they escaped without incident.  When they made it to the edge of the Circle, it was also Rylen who offered to help the rest of the mages get somewhere safe.

"I know a couple of people who'll help 'em out," Rylen assured.  "Maker knows I've been done with this shit for a while, now."

"When you do, contact Alaran Lavellan or Dorian Pavus," Anders said.  "I...I know it's not much, and I'm sorry we don't have time to give more information, but they're the ones to go to if you find yourself in a bind.  Because...they're in the whole mage rebellion and all."

"So are we," Merrill confided.  "But we're not as important as they are to be able to do much.  But we'll tell them to keep an eye out for you."

"Thank you, lass," Rylen said sincerely.  After Merrill had given quick hugs and words of encouragement to the mages she had most likely single-handedly saved, the groups diverged.  Then it was just the three of them.  They escaped through one of the back fences Laurel had a key to.  The shadows blanketed their presence as they dodged from alley to alley.  Anders and Merrill kept warm from the deep reserves of mana they used to increase their temperatures.  Laurel had her thick uniform jacket on, but her teeth were still chattering.

Anders told himself that he was just annoyed by the sound she was making when he directed a portion of his magic to her.  She made an audible noise of surprise and leaped back at his action.  "Oh, don't be such a dick about it," Anders grumbled.

"I'm not being a dick about it," Laurel growled as heat returned to her cheeks.  "But in case you haven't noticed, magic has never been positively spoken about in my workplace."

"Ah, I see why you two get along so well, now," Merrill said.  Anders glared at her due to his inability to tell whether or not she was being sarcastic.  "Hawke will be so happy to see us.  Oh!  And Alaran!  And Varric.  Mm, I've just missed everybody.  Do you think they're alright?"

"They had better be," Anders replied.  "Alaran still has my snowboarding gear I let her borrow so she could take Solas."

The comment masked his deep-seeded worry.

-

Solas awoke to the sound of a running shower and a beautiful, indistinct voice.  It took him a little while to distinguish what the song was.

 _"Girl, you're my angel, you're my darling angel_  
_Closer than my peeps you are to me, baby_  
_Shorty, you're my angel, you're my darling angel_  
_Girl, you're my friend when I'm in need, ladyyy"_

He couldn't stop himself from chuckling at the song Alaran was singing.  He expected it to be over, but she continued in a low, poorly accented voice.  
  
_"You're a queen and so you should be treated_  
_Though you never get the lovin' that you needed_  
_Could have left, but I called and you heeded_  
_Begged and I pleaded, mission completed..."_

She faltered with the next few lyrics and mumbled through the verses before picking back up.

_"But the feeling that I have for you is so strong  
Been together so long and this could never be wrong"_

The shower turned off, and Alaran's voice lowered to vibrant humming.  He turned over on his side so he could watch as she exited the bathroom.  One of his gray towels was wrapped around her small frame.  She smiled upon seeing him.  "Good morning," Alaran chimed as she went to one of his drawers and rummaged around.  

"Good morning," he said as he stretched, a satisfied groan escaping from his throat upon doing so.  She dropped her towel, but was still debating on what she should wear.  

Solas was planning on saying something sensual and witty, but was interrupted by a snort from Alaran.  She picked up a black, long-sleeved shirt and held it up to him.  "You do  _not_ own a turtleneck."

He realized that it  _was_ his turtleneck.  One of four.

Alaran found those, too.  She tossed all of them onto their bed--Ah.   _Their_ bed.  Solas liked the thought of that--with a definite frown.  "You do realize turtlenecks went out in the eighties.  No, scratch that; they went out in the seventies.  Wait!  No.  They were  _never_ in style.  The only acceptable time to wear them is if they have ugly Christmas decorations on the front."

It was his turn to frown.  "I beg your pardon, but have you ever  _seen_ me in a turtleneck?"  

"No, and I'm perfectly fine with never seeing it," she shot back before continuing her search.  There were still bruises on her thighs left over from his bite marks the previous night before.  Solas smiled to himself.

Alaran eventually found another long-sleeved shirt that she pulled on.  Next came the underwear and leggings she had worn last night.  "Now, I have a hankering for breakfast food that could rival Ron Swanson's.  And with the poopy stuff we're going to have to deal with today, I know I'll need a high dose of eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns.  It's..."  She faltered her steps and grimaced in discomfort.  "Ow."

Solas got out of bed and pulled on the underwear laying on the floor.  He approached Alaran, who only waved him off.  "I'm fine, Solas, really."  She shifted her hips from side-to-side.  "I'm just sore, that's all."

Guilt, bitter and aching, rose up from Solas' stomach.  He dipped his head.   _"Ir abelas, vhenan._ I knew we shouldn't have..."

She scoffed and took his hand in hers.  "Uh, maybe you don't remember because of the utter _bliss_ you experienced being all up inside me..."  He rolled his eyes at that.  Alaran moved her hand up so she could grip both of Solas' shoulders.  "But I actually  _consented_ to every moment of it.  So chin up, buttercup, and let me make you breakfast."

Alaran's small, reassuring smile chased away the guilt.  Solas cupped her face and drew her in for a kiss.  "You are so beautiful,  _emma lath._ And thank you."

His sincere appreciation was the wrong thing to say.  Her eyebrow rose automatically and she smirked suggestively.  "For the sex?"

Solas sighed, but went along with it.  He  _was_ partially grateful for that.  It had been Alaran's first time, yes, but he had been having a serious dry spell of his own.  She knew he meant more, though; that didn't have to be said aloud for it to expressed.

"Yes," he said in the driest voice he could conceive.  "Thank you for the sex."

That made her beam.  His heart palpitated.  "We should have Lace put that on a cake."

The world, as chaotic as it was, could wait.  Just for a couple of hours.  During that time, Solas would enjoy the company of the most beautiful, intelligent, unique woman found in his world.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here's how it goes with Deadpool. I know Ryan Reynolds is portraying him in the upcoming movie (which I absolutely cannot wait for), but I based him off of his looks in the comics. I also hope I encapsulated at least some of his character. 
> 
> And I just wanted to remind you guys how grateful and appreciative I am for the support you've given this fanfic. It's been such a blast, and I hope you guys can continue enjoying it. I hope that this little work of mine can make you smile to yourself, that it can make you stifle a snort in a public area, that it can make you laugh as you curl up on a couch to read it. But above all else, I hope that it can make you happy. I hope that you are happy. Know that, though I've never met you, I wish with all my heart that you are happy. Because you deserve it. And you know why. It's 'cause you're lovely. 
> 
> Okay. Uplifting encouragement over. *sleazy grin crawls across face* and hey, if you guys want, you can follow me on Tumblr at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief


	20. Butts and Bees are a Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alaran becomes the head honcho, finally.

"Al, you can't."

The sounds of a spoon clinking against the insides of a porcelain mug rang loudly in my ears, despite its soft volume.  And the smell of the coffee within--while usually delicious--made my stomach squirm.  

I left my head tucked into my arms and resting on the cold marble counter.  My back ached from the hunched over position I was in.  "Varric, I...I have to."

"Al, you're just a few months away from graduation.  You already have scholarships for graduate school, a-and you're set for a successful career."  Varric's voice was strained, but still managed to stay calm.  I didn't know how he was doing it.  "You can't quit, now."

"I have to," I continued to mumble.  "Varric, I have to.  I knew what I was getting myself into.  I'm fully prepared for the consequences... That includes dropping out of college."  I hated how weak my voice sounded.  Which was why I refused to look up.  Seeing Varric's concerned, sad face would probably make me break.  

"I don't think you're seeing this in the greater perspective," he continued to argue.  "You're...you're just thinking about here and now, Alaran.  Are you even sure you can do this?"

_Stars._

_Endless, bright, faint, consuming._

_I walked on them._

The image was brief and but a flicker, my mind bounding beyond what was really in front of me.  Yet it was there.  It made me hold my head up.  

I met Varric in the eyes, steel forming my decision and my emotions.  His gaze dropped an instant before it was brought back.  "Varric, I know what I must do.  I know the responsibility that I'm to embrace.  My music will always be there, be in here."  A porcelain hand laid itself atop my breast.  "But that is where it will remain until I and all those who wish for a better world are safe to walk the streets and pursue our dreams."  I stood and placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder.  He closed his eyes with a heavy, restrained sigh and placed his own on top of it.  "I know you don't agree.  I know you care too much about my well-being, and for that I'm grateful.  But this is larger than both of us."  I drew Varric in for a quick hug before I went and started the process, the beginning, the ending.  "And when the hope of others is put in the palms of my hands, what else can I do than give it to them?"

He breathed in my lavender scent as I drew in his own.  "Save that philosophical shit for Chuckles or Sparkler or the Iron Lady," he chuckled, but it was tight and forced.  "Just remember to pick up groceries."

"Me?  Forget to pick up groceries and result in your starving?  Perish the thought."  I ruffled his head, just like he usually did to me when I was sitting on the couch or in the car.  We separated, and I moved to the door where my burgundy coat and satchel awaited.  I slung both on, and gave Varric a small smile before I stepped out the door.  A part of me didn't want to remember the look he had in return.  A tanned face, weathered by years of love and pain, watching as his daughter stepped into a world filled with danger, sacrifice, and opposition.  Sienna eyes begged for me to stay, but otherwise he remained still.

I wanted to tell Varric that it would be alright.  That I would be fine, no matter what.

But I couldn't bear to lie to him.

-

 _It was as if she had been born to lead,_ Morrigan mused as she observed Alaran answer each question posed by those around her.  The responses were always a perfect combination of evenness, determination, and anger.  Angry enough to have the drive, determined enough to push past the anger, and even enough to speak with clarity and conciseness.

"Keep an eye on King Theirin; I want our people near him at all times.  Whatever he does, whatever he thinks, I want to be informed of it.  Our time is limited, and I need to see if he will be a useful and crucial piece on our board before too long."

"Make contact with all the cells in Orlais; we move."

"No."

"Yes."

"Find out."

"Leliana wants the latest update.  You're going to give it to her."

"Send word to all the mages that survived the Circle massacres that the Avvar will take them in until we can set up a secure location for them."

"Yes, Skywatcher is my favorite.  That makes no difference."

"No, thank you.  Coffee gives me a stomachache."

"The Raiders of the Waking Sea are able to get shipments of supplies to the mages trapped in Kirkwall.  Make sure that their contributions go unnoticed and rewarded.  Isabela has her reputation to uphold, after all."

"Get me the movements of Knight-Commander Meredith.  What do our people inside the police force have to say?...I have a feeling that the two will most likely conjoin out of pressure, sometime soon.  We will have to prepare for when that occurs."

"I will send a letter of thanks to Fairbanks for finding a place for the elves to hide.  Thank you for informing me."

Morrigan bided her time until Alaran was finally given a short break.  Their base of operations was still in the same place; the Red Templars, as they called themselves, had not yet found where they hid.  It was an old, musty place with little room for privacy, yet somehow Alaran managed to make the conversation she was having with Solas seem secluded from the world.  The witch almost felt bad for interrupting.

"A word?" Morrigan asked with the slight tilt of her head.  Alaran glanced at her with flashing violet eyes, then gave a nod.  

"What is it?"

"A contact of mine--one that I thought had vanished off the face of the earth--resurfaced.  He has a place in the Hinterlands that is currently sheltering the mages that escaped from Haven's Circle, and will offer it continually.  But...he is odd.  He insists on seeing you personally, to see if this thing is worth aiding."

There was hardly even a pause.  "Who is he?"

"Raleigh Samson.  A former Templar, still addicted to lyrium...yet somehow a decent man."  Morrigan chuckled lowly.  "If you wish, maybe you and your lover can take a day drive out there and visit him."

Alaran's eyes flickered over to Solas only for a second.  In that second they had a long conversation.  Then she brought them back to Morrigan.  "Thursday morning we'll travel there.  Tell him to be expecting us."

"And so I shall," Morrigan said.  "So tell me, Alaran:  what is it like to--"

Violet eyes moved past her shoulder and widened.  Alaran pushed past Morrigan and ran to the other side of the room, where a blond-headed mage and a Dalish elf were standing.  Behind them was a black-haired woman in a dirty Templar uniform.  Morrigan watched with interest as Alaran tightly hugged the both of them and asked them indiscernible questions.  The mage--Anders, was it?--jerked his thumb behind him to the Templar.  Alaran's body paused, hinging on either calm or fury.  The Templar opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a crushing hug.  Her vulpine face reddened as she was embraced by Alaran.  

"Merrill and Anders," Solas explained as he stepped beside Morrigan.  "They were taken to the Circle by that very same Templar.  And, it seems, rescued."

Morrigan hummed briefly.  "Perhaps she can provide us with information."

"Undoubtedly.  But I would refrain from prying until they can catch your breath."

She cast him a sidelong look.  "Why, Solas, do you still make me out to be a ruthless wench?"

"Never a wench, Morrigan," Solas said back with a sidelong look of his own.  "But ruthless?  Yes.  I was surprised that you even let Alaran take charge of the position you so dutifully schemed and manipulated your way to."

She clicked her tongue, enjoying the rile she was getting from the mage.  "Even after all we've been through, you cannot give me a compliment?"

Solas fully turned to face her, jaw clenched.  "Now that you are no longer in your position that you held so dear, I am merely able to express my beliefs without fear of being relieved of my contributions."  He leaned in close, his voice dropping to just above a whisper.  "And know, Morrigan, that I will be watching you, because I do not trust you.  If you have plans to harm Alaran in any way, I will rip you to shreds."

"A part of me wants to be hurt that you would accuse such things," Morrigan said with a small, feral smile, ignoring the terror of what Solas could do to her.  "I thought you knew me better, after all that time we worked so  _closely."_

"I only worked closely with the likes of you because I saw what needed to change.  And you, Morrigan?  What did you see?  A chance for power, for vengeance?"  It was his turn to chuckle.  "I wonder: what would your mother think of your actions concerning the mages?  The elves?"

Morrigan's head snapped to him, and she was met with thunderous gray-blue eyes on otherwise smooth marble.   _"Never_ speak of my mother," she spat.  

"Okay, don't mean to interrupt the pissing contest," Alaran said as she broke the tension between the two of them.  "But I'm going to return some mages to their Hawke.  Solas?  You wanna come with?"

"Alas,  _ma vhenan,_ I have to go to work," Solas said sincerely.  She gave him a peck on the lips.

"Very well.  Tell Dagna I said hello."

"Of course."

Alaran gave a nod to Morrigan in farewell.  The simple, short statement said:   _Do not test me, Morrigan.  I know what you think, I know your heart.  If you pose a problem, I will end you._ _  
_

And then the Dalish elf departed.  

Morrigan couldn't decide if she had just given the fate of the mages into the hands of the strongest leader or the darkest tyrant.  She wondered if Solas questioned the same.

-

"You do realize that you have a jar of broken jam underneath the seat of your car," Anders commented idly as I sneaked him, Merrill, and Laurel across Haven.  

I groaned.  "Don't remind me of that.  And don't tell Josephine that it's there.  She gave it to me for my twentieth birthday--"

 _"Twentieth?_ This has been here for  _three years?"_

"Hey!  Don't judge me!  It never stank, so why bother?"

"It has  _stuff_ on it."

"If you don't like what you see, Anders," I said with infinite patience, "then just close your eyes."

"And this, Laurel, is what I  _so dearly missed."_

She snorted in response.  "So what is it with you three?" I asked, glancing in the rear view mirror to glimpse at their curled up bodies.  "Did you form some kind of club in the Circle?  Who's your mascot?"

After a pause, they all responded in unison, "Bradsworth."

Hawke, Isabela, and Sebastian were already at the rugged little shack Hawke and Anders called their home when we pulled up.  There was Kool-Aid aplenty to go around, as well as day-old pizza.  I couldn't stay for long; I had to go say goodbye to Cole and meet up with Sera to discuss the alliance with the Red Jennies.  But as I observed their interaction, I saw Merrill basically sticking herself to Hawke's side and tell him all about the little daisy that survived through it all.  Bradsworth the daisy, not Merrill the Daisy.  He listened with rapt attention, and even produced an empty sour cream container that they put it in and set on the counter.  

Hawke would be alright.  With her, he would.

Smiling to myself, I quietly slipped out, back into the world, and back into the danger.

-

_"You do realize how many laws I'm probably breaking just talking to you?"_

"I know, I know," I spoke as I drove.  "But if you really didn't want to help, you wouldn't have answered my phonecall, anyways."

Aveline's sigh into the other end of the line made my Bluetooth speakers in the car crackle.   _"Fine.  What do you need?--And I'm not saying that I'm even going to help.  I just...I'll just see what it is."_

I turned on my blinker to turn before I responded.  "I just need you to send any Red Templar activity my way, that's all.  It'll help protect your people and mine.  Our people, Avie.  I've already got supplies for those hiding out in Darktown headed that way.  If you present me with this one solid, I'll present you with even more solids."

 _"...Only Red Templar activity.  They haven't caused as much of a stir here as they are down there, but I expect it will be returning home, soon."_ I heard a pen clicking and unclicking.  Her nervous habit.   _"How...how is everybody down there?  Are they safe?  Are you safe?  Maker's breath, girl, what have you even gotten yourself into?"_

I shrugged, even though she wouldn't see it.  "Anders and Merrill got out once the Circle turned to poop.  Surprisingly, they were helped by a Templar there.  Her name's Laurel Trevelyan.  And don't worry about me, Avie, I've got this all taken care of--"

_"Wait, did you say Trevelyan?  Laurel Trevelyan?"_

"I'm sorry that the middle of my sentence cut off the beginning of yours.  And yeah, I did.  Why do you ask?"  I paused for a moment.  "What do you know?"

 _"The Trevelyans of Ostwick are...a pious bunch.  If they get word that their daughter openly helped rebel mages and turned her back on the Templar Order, there may be hell to pay.  And believe me,"_ Aveline shuddered,  _"they will make it hell.  Best be careful with flinging her name about, Alaran.  Otherwise you may just have a very influential noble house pitted against you."_

"Great," I muttered as I pulled into the parking lot of Sera's run-down apartment complex.  The alienage was going to be one of the first places to be torn down if everything changed like I wanted it to.  "She's nobility.  How perfect.  Much plot twist."

_"So tell me how a classical music major got into the business of running not one, but two rebellions?  I'm a bit curious to know."_

I chuckled.  "Come on, Avie.  I think we both know that this isn't surprising."

_"Honestly, no."_

I gave her a run-down of what happened and how my duty came to be.  Eventually, I said, "I miss you, Aveline.  You need to come down and visit, sometime.  Bring Donnic, too.  I'll make you both some of my infamous lemonade."

 _"If you get things under control there, maybe I will,"_ Aveline replied.   _"Except I won't play with the band.  Those days are behind me."_

I grinned.  "That's what everybody who plays again says."

-

As my "meetings" with Sera typically went, we ended up sprawled on her bed with Taco Bell wrappers scattered about.  "Ya know, Ally," Sera said as she ate another Dorito taco.  "If anyone's gonna make a change, it's you, yeah.  Red Jennies and me never liked that Briala twit.  Too snooty, too _pish this_ and  _pish that._   Liked everything to be big and grand.  Don't need that with a rebellion.  Just need a good leader and good people to follow ya.  Then you can make the grand things later."

"If you didn't like her, then why did you help?" I asked as I slurped contemplatively on a Baja Blast.  

"'Cause even we fockin know when shite needs to change.  And right then, Briala was the only one to offer it up.  But then she got shot by that bitch and 'ere you are.  So it all worked out, yeah?"

I smiled at my friend.  "Yeah, I guess it did."  I then rolled over and grabbed my sketch pad I had brought along with me.  "Alright," I said as I readied myself to draw.  "What should our propaganda poster be?  What should our slogan be?  What should our emblem be?  Briala wanted to be recognized by the big people because she was tired of being noticed by only the little ones.  Except, she failed to realize that it was the little people that mattered the most, then the big people came after.  So what message should we send to our little people, Sera?"

I got a wicked, devilish grin in return.  "Oh, I got a few ideas."

"It's butts, isn't it?"

"Butts  _and_ bees."

"Well, it's a start."

-

"...I'm just saying, we should really invest in a boa constrictor."

"Um, no.  It'll die because we won't take care of it."  I ran a hand along the edge of the brick wall, the other holding a giant waffle cone stacked with five different flavors of ice cream.  Wade strode beside me as we walked through the alley, already halfway through his own treat.  

"I'd name it Lil' Wilson."

"That's what you call your dick."

"I call Mr. Popper's Penguin many things."

I wrinkled my nose, but laughed.  "That's probably the worst one I've heard, yet."

"So what're we looking for, even?"

"Cracks in the prison.  It'll help me see how much time we really have left before everything goes kaboom."  I bit into my ice cream cone.

"You know, I really hate how you eat ice cream."

"It's not a solid, nor is it a liquid, Wade," I snapped.  "You have to choose one path or the other to consume it  Don't be hatin' or discriminatin'."  My finger found a fissure in the fabric of reality, potentially dangerous energy seeping through it.  With the glide of my hand I sealed it back up.  But no matter how many I patched and fixed, there would always be a greater amount.  It was just giving Alaran some time.  

"You look worried," my husband said.

"Because I am," I replied.  "And I hate being worried."  Another bite of ice cream.  Another distrustful look from Wade.  "Meredith's here because of the red lyrium infused within her conscious, right?"

"Right."

"Well, since red lyrium is alive and all that horrible stuff, I don't know what it's going to do, _if_ it has enough power to do anything at all.  Is it going to grab hold of the minds of everybody who's trapped in here?  Will it taint them with the Blight?  Will it taint the Orb with the Blight?  Alaran?  Or will it form into its own sentience and wreak havoc?"  I shook my head as I sealed another fissure.  "What Justice brought down on this place was already bad enough.  Al doesn't even know it, but she's dying as we speak.  Well--dying _faster_.  The internal damage that spirit caused to her...it's going to take a while longer to take effect because time here is different than the time back in Real Thedas, but it will make an impact nonetheless.  And Justice was just one weakened, neutral spirit.  I can't imagine what some sort of red lyrium will do to her body if it gains a foothold.   _Then_ we'd have conscious red lyrium on our hands, too.  And what a booger that'd be."

"So you're saying that things may or may not just go down the poop shoot?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."  I finished off my ice cream in a couple huge bites.  "I can't wait to get out of here.  I'm sick and tired of being trapped."

"At least you got me, huh?"

My face turned into a smile upon seeing Wade grinning crookedly at me.  "At least I got you."

"Who, what's that?" Wade pointed to a poster hanging up in the alley.  From how fresh and new it looked, it couldn't have been hung up long ago. 

"Sweet," I laughed.  "They've got their own  _V for Vendetta_ thing going on."

On a dark, Fade-green backdrop was the silhouette of a dragon with its wings outstretched to either sides of the poster.  In front of it was a flaming greatsword crossed with an icy stave, the two weapons making an X.  Scrawled underneath in the same fiery-colored shades was a single statement:

 _We Rise now, or we Fall forever_ _._

"It looks a little cinematic," Wade commented as he examined the poster, which seemed to be a copy of a hand-painted one.  Most likely Al's doing.  "But I can feel all sorts of passion stirring in me.  Wait, no, I just gotta poop."

I smirked wryly, still staring at the poster.  "I think we should join this so-called rebellion.  Don't you think, dearest?"

"Wh...oh, yeah, totally.  When?"

"In a little while, when the drama is really high and it looks like they're in a no-win situation.  Then that'll make us look good."

"Babe, we look good already."

"Good-er."

"Ah.  Got it."

-

Briala had an office.  I didn't like it.  It made me turtle-frown.  

Surprisingly, she had a few pictures on her wall, as if this was an actual day job at a government building.  I got a box out and piled all her stuff in it.  Our people and those who were united with us in the police force were quietly scouring all of the places she could possibly be.  There was a whisper here and a whisper there, most of them contradicting, but all of them agreeing that Meredith was going to do something bad.  Extremely bad.  

Until she was found, all her belongings were getting stored in a random cupboard.  The box included a few framed pictures of her with several important, recognizable people.  There was nothing that hinted towards any family whatsoever.  I would ask about that; it would be more manageable to know that she has family before the Red Templars did.  Then we could keep them to some degree secure.  Other than that, there was little else.  An FU coffee mug (go Mabaris!), a bowl of microwavable ramen, and a fern.  Yes, a fern.  It disappointed me, the level of mediocrity. 

The office looked even more barren as soon as I cleaned up.  All that sat on the desk was my closed laptop, the accompanying mouse, a notebook pad, and a cup of pens.  I kept Briala's stapler, hoping that she wouldn't come back and burn the building down for it.  The black, sad-looking swivel chair barely peeked above the faded wooden surface.  Behind on a shelf was a printer.  

And that was it.

With a short sigh I settled down into the chair.  It creaked ominously and tipped back a dangerous amount with just the slightest movement.

My eyes kept roving to the lone metal cabinet sitting against the wall.  The things inside...they whispered to me, begging me to read its secrets.  But was I mentally prepared for it all?  Probably not.  And all of my work for the day had gotten done.  That left me with nothing to do but either get out of the warehouse and stuff my face with doughnuts  _or_ pour over the contents of all those files within and have the deep abyss of that certain darkness inside me grow as a result.

The first sounded much more appeasing, but the second probably took precedence.

_But Lace's pastries are so decadent..._

_And what about the betterment of your People?  Of those who are suffering?  Of those who are frightened and lost?_

I groaned as I stood and sauntered tiredly over to the metal filing cabinet.  I yanked open the first drawer.  The motion was too fast and violent; the front of it hit me square in the chest.  I let out a wheezing moan and doubled over.  "I just want to go home," I whined to myself, but stood up and began rifling through all the manila folders.  I came across the L section.  "Ah, what do we have here?" I muttered, and picked up the file on me.  Naughty, naughty Briala.  She should have somebody trustworthy and loyal to her to come and burn everything that she may not want seen in here.  Or maybe she _did_ want me to see my records, if just to prove to me that she knew everything, and if I tried any funny business it could be used against me.  I had no idea how many others had this information.  She had all the basics on my life; age, date-of-name, appearance, major in college, achievements, and extra-curricular activities.   _Then_ she had my nasty history with my parents and my Dalish clan, the legal battle that followed, my presence at the Conclave and the injuries sustained at the explosion, my relationship with not only Solas but everybody else who I considered friends, and...

And my flashbacks.  My nightmares.  My mysterious broken arm.  My reaction to Justice.  Everything.

The manila folder shook.  No.   _My_ hands shook.  They shook with rage.  

I slammed the filing cabinet shut with a thunderous  _clang._

**_They betrayed you they betrayed you but it will prepare you for when they leave and never return.  When the world is ruin and dust because of YOU, know that they were the ones who thought you would cause it in the first place--_ **

My lungs contracted painfully.  I stumbled back and held the back of my hand to my mouth to cough.  Something warm and sticky spattered against it.  Slowly, I pulled it back to gaze down at the flecks of blood, stark red against ivory.  

The rage vanished, replaced by quiet, screaming horror.  

I quickly wiped the blood on my black jeans and cleared my throat.  The pain had gone as quickly as it come.  I walked back over to the beaten-down chair and grabbed my red coat.  I placed the manila folder down as I put it on, only to pick it back up to take with me.  Then I left that wretched, barren place.

-

Solas and Dorian were where I expected them to be, where I had intended them to be.  In the back of  _Pavus Loft,_ going over documents and emails and contacting numerous members and sympathizers.  

"Alaran, darling!" Dorian sang, springing up from his chair to greet me.  Solas did so more slowly, warily. "I knew you just couldn't stay away from the wonderful environment my work provides.  But, sadly, I can't let you work any extra shifts.  Unless you've brought something from Harding's place.  Then..."  His eyes flickered down to the folder in my hand.  The Tevinter visibly paled.  After a swallow, he said, "Alaran, let us explain."

"Friends usually tell friends if they're giving every dark, excruciating detail about the other to a manipulative elven bitch," I said icily, frost nearly coming from my breath.  I took the contents of the folder and flung it at Dorian, where they scattered across the room and onto the concrete floor.  Dorian gazed sorrowfully at them.  Solas didn't gaze at all; he was studying the surface of the table he sat at, jaw clenched.

"This was a joint collaboration.  How many of your friends were involved?" I questioned, using the word _your_ as subtly and blatantly as I could.  "Anders?  Hawke?  Vivienne?  Does Morrigan have a copy?  Answer me, Master Pavus."

He sputtered a noise before saying anything.  "Alaran, we had to.  Morrigan and Briala were still suspicious of you, even after all you did.  So--so to get them to trust you, we had to give them everything.  But it paid off, didn't it?  Look where you stand, now!"  Dorian's eyes were pleading as he said, "Believe us when we say that we took no pleasure in doing it.  Solas about ripped off both their heads on a few occasions.  Hell, I still think he wants to do that with Morrigan."  

"You didn't answer my question.  Who else has this information?" I reiterated without pause.  Dorian closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face.

"...Morrigan does.  But that's it, I swear!"

I tilted my chin in derision.  The two of them visibly flinched.  "Next time you give anybody shit on me, go through the Red Jennies.  At least they know how to cover their tracks.  Continue on with your work.  I expect to have an update emailed to me by tomorrow." 

My hand let go of the empty file, letting it flutter to the ground.  I turned to stride back out of the building so I could simmer and sort through everything that was roaring in my head and chest.  "Alaran," Solas called behind me, pained and morose. 

I stopped long enough to turn my head to him, but nothing else.   _"Telahna, Fen.  Tel dana'em."_

Solas' ears visibly lowered, and he bowed his head in silence. _  
_

The sound of Haven's cold winter wind was the only sound that softly screamed through the building as I departed.  

-

Dorian picked up the manila folder to collect the vile remnants of his and the others' betrayal towards Alaran.   _He should have_ told  _her.  Idiot, idiot, idiot.  He knew this was just going to blow up in his face sometime.  But...kaffas...he deserved it._

Something on the edge of the thick, yellow parchment caught his eye.  Dorian ran a thumb over the small, dark red flecks of blood.  He cast a sidelong glance at Solas, who was numbly picking up the papers from the floor, unaware of the Tevinter's discovery. 

So Alaran still had secrets, after all.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, forgive me if I butchered that elven. I am not worthy of such a beautiful language, especially one so dutifully listed out in Project Elvhen. 
> 
> Telahna, Fen. Tel dana'em = Silence, Wolf. Do not break me.
> 
> There were a lot of things that went down in this chapter. And yeah, it's getting a little heavy, but don't worry your lovely little hearts. Things will all work out (I think). Thanks for all the support!
> 
> Also, you can follow me on Tumblr at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief. There, I will welcome you with a benevolent, loving embrace, and whisper to you the secrets of the Universe.
> 
> Jk, you'll just see a lot of Dragon Age and random reblogs.


	21. Fight to Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al and Solas make up. Obviously.

"You're...hitting a punching bag...while listening to Dean Martin?" Cassandra Pentaghast asked me as she slowly approached.  "Why?"

"Because old, suave music reminds me of Solas, and when I see Solas' face I want to punch it, so I'm projecting his stupid dome and pretending that I really am hitting it," I growled between hits.  "Plus...plus I really like Dean Martin.  He soothes my soul."

I had gotten the key to Cassandra's gym a long time ago, but I rarely used it, especially when it wasn't open.  I had been punching and kicking for a few hours, now (and a bit of crying but that mixed in with the sweat so it was all good), and my body was exhausted and burning.  My T-shirt and basketball shorts had gotten in the way, which left me in spandex and a sports bra.  I wanted to chop my short hair off; its length made it so I couldn't really put it up, so as a result it clung to my neck and scalp.  Horrendously annoying.  

Cassandra turned down the volume of my music and calmly strode over to place a hand on my slick shoulder.  "I think that is enough, for tonight."

As soon as she finished her sentence I dropped my shoulders and took heaving breaths.  Cassandra handed me a bottle of water and a towel.  "Do you care to explain what is wrong?"  Her face darkened.  "What did Solas do."

"What  _everybody_ who I thought was my friend did, you mean," I corrected as I wiped my brow.  "It's just...why would they...I trusted them a-and it makes me  _so_ angry because all I've done is be there for them and I've never been this angry before you know that Cass but...but..." I snarled and threw my towel at the punching bag.  When that didn't have as great effect as I wanted, I chucked my water bottle.   _  
_

"Better?" Cassandra only asked.  I gave a slow shake of my head.  

"No.  But..."  I pinched the bridge of my nose and growled before composing my worn body and standing up straight.  "It'll be okay.  I think I know what to do."

"Which of our...friends...betrayed you?" Cassandra said carefully.  If I gave her the green light, she would bash their heads in.  Or at least give them a bloody nose.  Or a sprained wrist. 

I rolled my head back.  "Dare I tell you, Cass?"

"Perhaps not," she said dryly, but didn't press further.  If anything, Cassandra and I felt similarly when it came to showing signs of weakness:  hide it away and pretend it's not there.  "Come, get your clothes on; I'll take you out for some Italian."

"Okay.  Thank you."

-

Three days.

Solas hadn't spoken to Alaran in three days.

And he was dying.  

She had taken her vacation days from work, leaving Dorian in the dark as to where she was or what she was up to.  And he didn't  _dare_ call Varric and inquire.  That dwarf, as amicable as he was, could tear Solas a new one if Alaran so much as told him that she was hurt by her  _vhenan._ In multiple, painful ways.  He  _did_ have connections to The Merchant's Guild, after all.  Nobody who had a past with them was entirely innocent.

Solas had run into Cassandra by chance at Lace's Bakery Shoppe.  The former UFC champion had given him a look so fierce it practically screamed that she was, to some degree, aware of his deeds.  

No.  His betrayal.  He needed to be honest with himself, even if it cracked part of his spirit.

Alaran didn't mind secrets; she was patient and kind when it came to those, because she knew that they would be revealed to her eventually and at one's own volition.  But this was a conjoined effort to keep something hidden from her, something that she would have readily given anyways had she known that it was asked for her to give.  Briala was not a trusting woman, though, nor was Morrigan.  Solas knew that they had basked in triumph and gluttony as they read her life story without hardly knowing her themselves.

He hoped Alaran knew that Hawke, Anders, and Merrill barely knew what they were contributing towards when asked what they knew about her and their time spent in her company.  And that Vivienne, upon finding out what she had done, refused to speak further on the matter.  It was mainly he and Dorian, the two that Alaran spent hours pouring over information and papers and records while eating a disgusting amount of pastries from Lace's bakery.  The two that gave her their honest opinion when she asked for it.  The two that got her into this mess in the first place.

"...You alright, ser?" a friendly, familiar voice asked.  Solas lifted his eyes up from the report he was blankly looking at and shifted his gaze to Dagna.  She had a bright, curious smile on her face and genuine interest in him.  "You're looking a little, er, distant."

"No," Solas responded a little too curtly, "nothing is wrong.  What do you require, Dagna?"

"Oh!  I have great news!  We almost have the eluvian up and running!  If you want to come check it out with me, you can.  Just don't rip your pants on it, this time," she added with a wink.  

Solas couldn't bring himself to smile.  "I'll keep that in mind.  Thank you for telling me, Dagna.  I will see it as soon as I am free."

"Where's Alaran?  I haven't seen her around in a few days."  The little dwarf continued rambling despite the reluctant, pained expression Solas had.  "Oh!  Since we're talking about her, I have a nameday gift!"  His eyes widened almost imperceptibly as Dagna scrunched up her face while fishing out an object in her white lab coat.  "Aha!  Here."  She pulled out a small box wrapped in black with a silver bow on top.  "Here, could you give this to her?  Since she's going to be twenty-four in a couple of days."

His stomach dropped as Dagna plopped the little gift in the palm of his clammy hand.  Not only had he absolutely demolished Alaran's trust, but he had forgotten her nameday, as well.  He was an ass.  If Alaran hadn't made it clear that they were broken up, then he might have just solidified it.  

Once Dagna had left his office he pulled out his phone and called again.  It was only the third time today, which was an improvement from two days ago.  And he hadn't left any text messages--wait.  No, no, he had.  This morning.

His heart clenched as he heard the  _brrrrnng_ of the call to Alaran.  This was such nonsense.  If he truly wanted to see her, he should go and knock on her apartment door and explain--

The phone picked up.

_"Go to your house after work.  I'll be waiting."_

"Alar--"

The phone hung up.

It was an odd feeling, having both one's mind race while being completely empty at the same moment.  For several moments, all Solas could do was stand there.  Then, after tucking his phone back in the pocket of his gray slacks, straightening his green colored tie, putting on his coat and mad bomber hat, and slinging his carrier bag over his shoulder, the elven mage calmly strode out of the building.  He alerted those he worked with that he was leaving early for some urgent business to attend to.

Once out the doors and around the corner, Solas sucked in a lungful of air and broke into a sprint to his car.  He  _refused_ to think that this turn of events would result in something heartbreaking.  He  _refused_ to think that Alaran would only be at his house to give him back his heart and demand her own in return.  He  _refused_ to believe that he abruptly left work for nothing more than to get dumped. _  
_

He refused.

Solas fumbled for his keys and hurriedly put them in the ignition.  Cold air blasted onto his face and music blared against his ears as he pulled out of the parking lot.  

_"--This mangled heart is meant for so much more  
Though the wind it's telling me that it's ok_

_I'll stand my ground til I hear the kingdom come  
I'll stand my ground til I hear the kingdom come_

_So I will fight to keep the fire burning in the night_  
_For I found words to keep me still_  
_Oh I'm prone to go and make the same mistakes_  
_I hear your voice calling out my name--"_

A car horn honked angrily as Solas ran a red light.  He prayed to whatever deity there was that he wouldn't get pulled over.  Not now, of all times.  And with the police force in disarray from the Red Templar conflict, who knew what they would do to an elf  _and_ a mage.

About three seconds later red and blue lights flashed in Solas' rear view mirror.   _"Fenedhis,"_ Solas outright yelled, but swallowed back his frustration as he pulled over onto the side of the road.  The faster he could get this over with, the faster he could get to Alaran.  

A hulking blond Ferelden man strode up to the window.  Solas rolled his window down.  "Hello, officer," he sighed, gazing up at the hulking blond Ferelden policeman.  

"Hello," the officer sighed back.  "We'll make this short and quick, yes?"  His amber colored eyes flickered to Solas' ears, and he stiffened almost imperceptibly.  Solas tightened his grip on the steering wheel.  Today was not the day to get in an altercation with an enforcer of the law.  Not when there was a beautiful woman who needed reconciliation waiting for him at his house.  

"Step out of the car, please," said Officer Rutherford calmly but firmly.  

"I believe that I'm entitled to know why," Solas said back in a similar tone of voice.  "If you want me to step out of the car just so you can give me a ticket for running a red light, then I'd be happy to.  But if that is not it..." he felt his eyes flash, and didn't finish the sentence.

Officer Rutherford briefly shut his eyes and took a deep breath before saying, "Please, ser, let's just get this over with.  You know what my duty is."

"Your duty is to protect those who are need of protection, not aiding those who pose a threat," Solas said, a thunderstorm growing inside him.  "Now,  _ser,_ if you would be so kind to give me my ticket, we can both be on our way."

The two men stared at each other for for a few moments, both challenging and warning the other of what could happen if things escalated.

In the midst of it, the walkie-talkie on Officer Rutherford's shoulder crackled to life.   _"Cullen,"_ a gruff voice said on the other end.  It was...familiar.   _Alaran trusts them.  So he could trust them.  "Just let it go.  Remember what we talked about?  We're going to do what's right."_ There was a moment of hesitation.   _"Unless this bloke's just being an ass and_ isn't  _who I think it could be.  Then give him a ticket."_

"Please," Solas urged reverently.  "Do what he says."  He had to get back to Alaran.  If this man could only understand that.

But he didn't have to explain himself further.  Officer Rutherford gave him a ticket, told him that his license plate tags would be expiring, soon, and sent him on his way.  Solas let out a breath as soon as he was around the block and the police car disappeared from sight.  Who were those men?  He felt as if he knew them, for a brief moment, but the feeling faded.

Against his will, Solas drove the rest of the way home at the speed limit.  He wouldn't be risking anything else.  

Alaran's blue Nissan was parked outside his townhouse.  Solas found his heart was thumping wildly and his knees were weak as he opened the door and stepped onto the icy pavement.  His anxiety was all due to one sole woman.  He wasn't sure if he should laugh or tremble at the fact.  

She had her back to him and was quietly muttering to herself when Solas entered.  His eyes widened in surprise, everything he had planned to say sputtering and dying in his mind.  "Yes," Alaran said aloud as she tightened a knob, still not turning to Solas.  "It is what you think it is.  And no, I don't want you to talk yet.  Just stand there and gape, like I know you are."  Her voice was cold and curt, but not angry or heated.  Solas didn't know if that was better or worse.  

So he waited as she continued to finish up.  After what seemed like an eternity, Alaran groaned softly as she rose back on her feet.  Solas' breath caught in his throat as the faced him, her face a mask of veneer, violet eyes gluing him to the spot with a kind of tormented, dangerous, old beauty that many thought only existed in stories.  But she was all-too real.

And she was speaking to him.

"...why I did it.  Honestly, I don't know.  But I did.  And I hope it makes you happy.  Because...because if you're happy, I'm happy.  And I still care about your happiness.  And seeing as I really,  _really_ didn't like you there for a while, I figured the best thing I could do to remedy that was do something nice for you," Alaran spoke carefully.  She gestured to the instrument behind her.  "So I, uh, I hope you like them."

Solas blinked.  All he wanted to do was kneel in front of her and beg, grovel for her forgiveness.  To kiss her full, soft lips and acknowledge only her existence in this world.  To--

"Hey, butt munch," Alaran interrupted, snapping her fingers in his face and hauling him back to reality.  "Stop that.  I know what you're doing.  You're being all angsty and poetic.  But what I want you to do is just go over there and play the freaking drums for me."

_"M-ma nuvenin."_

He shambled numbly over to the drum set Alaran had set up in the middle of his living room.  Picking up the drumsticks that rested on the surface of one of the drums, Solas started a slow beat.  He was torn between locking his eyes on the instrument before him or on Alaran, who stood a mere few feet away.

She took the guitar that had been resting against the couch and took a seat.  It was unsurprising that Alaran had one, but Solas never had the chance to hear her play it.   _It's like a lute, but with less strings and if a lute were a sunset then a guitar would be a forest,_ her voice chimed distantly in his head.

No lyrics uttered from Alaran.  She only strummed a few soft, simple chords before picking up a melodious tune that could only have come from her heart, her spirit, her soul.  

Solas could do nothing more but take up the honor of being part of her song.

-

Sheets rustled as their intertwined bodies adjusted positions.  "You looked really dopey with that hat on your head," Alaran spoke softly, her voice low and laughing, matching the smile playing on her lips.  Her breath tickled the tip of Solas' nose, her fingers glided over the freckles on his back, and her legs curled between his.  

Bliss.  This was bliss.

"It was not the first thing on my mind when I saw you," Solas grinned back, his thumb circling the smooth skin on her hip.  Laughter, joy was in his chest, unable to be set free because there was no end to it.  "In fact, I had completely forgotten I still had it on until you took it off."  He knew it was at the foot of the bed where Alaran had tossed it, lurking like the ugly creature it was.

"You know what it reminds me of?" She giggled, her lips now brushing against his as she talked.  

"Do I want to know?"

"It reminds me of Harry Potter's  _Monster Book of Monsters,_ _"_ Alaran confessed, her body contracting as it was wracked with silent laughter.  Solas lifted his hand up and pinched the side of her stomach, tickling her.  Alaran's legs kicked out and her face scrunched up.  Her feet entangled themselves in the blanket covering them and ripped it down.  

Solas wrapped his arms around her squirming waist and held her tightly to protect her from the cold that they were now exposed to.  He couldn't help but kiss the curve of her porcelain shoulder, and relish in the pleased sigh that escaped from Alaran.  "Let's leave,  _vhenan,"_ he nearly growled between kisses.  "Just the two of us.  Anywhere you want to go, I will follow."

"Follow?" she repeated quietly, a smile in her voice.  "Why follow me, when you could be by my side the entire way through?"

"Because if I follow, then I'd get to admire your exquisite backside."

After that sentence, Solas bit down on the apex of Alaran's shoulder.  "Hey!  No bruises."

"I can always heal it," he mumbled under his breath, but loud enough for her to hear.  

"Alas,  _ma vhenan,_ we have nations to change and people to save," Alaran sighed heavily.  "We can't lay here forever, nor can we run away.  But we  _can_ go to the Hinterlands tomorrow and check out this Samson dude."

Solas stopped his nibbling.  "You forgot, didn't you?"

A huff.  "Yes."

_Just like he had forgotten her nameday._

But there was still time to find her a gift.  That was a simple truth, in a world full of uncertainty and fear.

Alaran nuzzled his cheek.  "Well, I'll be sure to pick up snacks for the drive.  You can get off work, can't you?  If not, I'll take Merrill or somebody.  She and I can come up with some pretty sick showtune mash-ups."

"No need.  I will take the day off.  I'm sure everybody there can breathe a sigh of relief when they find that out," Solas snorted.  "Perhaps it will give them time to conjure up a scandalous rumor that would explain why I made such a hasty departure today."

"Ooh, please tell me that you shoved people out of the way as you sprinted out the doors."

"No.  I only sprinted when I was around the corner and out of sight from prying eyes."

Her giggle was warm, its tender flames licking up Solas' senses and making his skin prickle.   _I will never hurt you again,_ he thought firmly.

"Yes, you will."

His body stiffened.  "It's such a bother when you speak out loud, isn't it?" Alaran continued idly.  "I do it, sometimes.  Not that I want to, but I do."  Her finger bopped his nose.  "And it looks like you do, too."  She focused her half-lidded violet eyes on Solas.  "I think it's time that you know something, Solas.  When two people love each other very much--"

"Alaran--"

"they will hurt each other."

Solas shifted his eyes down.  Alaran's hand rested on his cheek.  "Love is...weird.  And it's painful.  It's really painful.  There's a reason they call it falling; because the impact is everything but soft.  And  _staying_ in love isn't an easy thing, either.  Solas, _vhenan_ , we're going to hurt each other.  That is a plain and simple truth.  And with the line of work we find ourselves in...well, that's just painful all in itself.  I'm going to end up hurting you at some point, if I haven't already, and you're going to hurt me.  Because we're imperfect people we say and do stupid things, no matter how smart we are.  So please don't say that you're never going to hurt me, again.  Just love me honestly and with all you have, and I'll do the same.  And if we do that, then the hurt inflicted won't be the only thing there is to latch onto.  Our fight to keep will always be triumphant."  Her kiss on his lips was tender, sweet, and lingering.  "Let's start now, yeah?"

He couldn't hold her close enough to him.  "Let's start now."

-

The fifth of Haring.  One day before my birthday.

Nameday.  It was nameday.

_Why is it nameday?_

_Pfft._ Like I cared.  

"What kind of cake do you want, Al?" Varric yelled from his office in the back of the apartment.  I gave a half-sigh, half-chuckle and lifted my head up from the sandwiches I was making (One turkey with muenster, mayo, mustard, spinach, and banana peppers, and the other ham, swiss, miracle whip, lettuce, pickles, and olives).  

"Varric I told you I don't want a birthday party!  I've got too much to do!" I yelled back.  Pulling a knife out of the drawer, I cut the sandwiches diagonally and put them both in a Ziploc bag.  

"So vanilla?" Varric questioned loudly.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help but laugh.  This was how it had been for the past five years; Varric would plan my party, I would vehemently protest, and he would continue going about everything.  "Vanilla," I groaned.   _"With_ chocolate frosting!"

"And Neapolitan ice cream?"

"YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT NEAPOLITAN ICE CREAM!"

The dwarf's wicked cackle was the only response.  I muttered a few empty curse words and continued to prepare Solas' and my lunch for the journey to the Hinterlands.  I packed the sandwiches in a lunch box, along with little bags of chips (plain original potato for me and sour cream and onion for Solas), candy bars (peanut m&ms for me and frilly cake duds for Solas), bottles of water (water for me and water for Solas), and a thermos of hot chocolate with a pinch of Antivan cinnamon.  Ever since I hat met Sandal hot chocolate reminded me of the happy little dwarf.  

My lungs flared with pain.  I held back the searing cough until I reached the paper towels so I could tear one off and press it to my mouth.  The cough itself was muffled from the coarse tissue, but from the warm, sticky substance that coated my throat, I knew what would be there for me to see when I pulled it away.

Blood.  Blegh. 

-

"Babe, are you sure this is going to work?"

"It has to.  Which means that I hope so."  I set up the sniper rifle, knowing the contours of the weapon like it was a part of my own spirit.

Oh wait.  It was.  

"Why him?  He hasn't done anything wrong."  Wade's mask was lifted up to the bridge of his nose so he could eat the bucket of wings I had conjured for the two of us.  "Besides, this will, like,  _destroy_ Little Lamb, won't it?"

I sighed and grabbed a wing.  "Look, Meredith hired us so we could take a hit out on Alaran.  We can't, though, so somebody else has to go in her stead to prove to the Knight-Commander that we tried, half-assed as it may be.  Do I want to do it?  Absolutely not.  Is this a real place, though?  No.  Will it ultimately spare Alaran from the internal damage she's currently suffering from?  Probs."  I grabbed for another one.  "We're not actually part of the story, babe.  We're just here to move it along.  But if Al's body calls it quits before she can even face the Orb and complete the journey of self-awareness and shit like that, then everybody is going to be dead.  For real.  So it'll all work out.   _But,"_ I held up a bullet swirling with emerald green energy and my power stored inside, "this should make it so when we shoot him, he'll get back to his rightful noggin."

"And  _why_ can't we do this to Al?"

"Because this is  _her_ mind.  To kill her in her mind is to erase her existence at the worst, or kill her and erase the existence of everybody else...at the worst.  And we can't have that, now can we?"  I loaded the bullet up and patted the smooth metal.  "That'll pack enough punch to haul his ass back to Thedas' dimension."  I swallowed my third wing and tossed the bone over the edge of the building we were perched on.  

The Merc with a Mouth sprawled out on the ground.  "You know, sometimes you're confusing."

"I know.  But you are, too.  That's why I love you."  I looked over at him and smiled.  "And besides, I know you'd get bored if I tried to discuss the nuances and minutia of all this PB&J.   _Goober_ style, by the way."  Then my face lit up.  "Oh, and I have a favor to ask of you."

Wade pulled the rest of his mask up to give me a flat look.  "You want to shoot me too, don't you?"

"He'll need to know what's going on," I whined.  "And I need to stay here when things turn into Luke Cage's butthole."  I batted my eyelashes at my husband.  "Pretty please?"

He rolled his head back and groaned loudly.   _"Fiiiine."_

I grinned.  "I think Al will love the birthday gift I'm giving her."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the song that was playing as Solas was desperately running to his lady love was a song by River Run North called Fight to Keep. I always had this song jamming in my head when I pictured him going to her, and to me it's always been a really catchy song. So I'm going to put a link to the official music video below. BUT be warned that it's pretty weird, disturbing...and kind of funny. I don't know, I have a sick sense of humor (and I'm guessing all you lovely freaks do as well). Seriously, though, when I first saw the music video I thought it was going to be really cheery and fun but, er, it wasn't. Just...just try to listen to the song and not solely focus on the video. 
> 
> www.youtube.com/watch?v=GNTspfhyn1c
> 
> You can also follow me on Tumblr and see more of my weird humor at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief
> 
> Hope you guys are staying lovely.


	22. Nameday, Birthday, Tom-ay-to, Tom-ah-to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alaran's birthday--wait, nameday. Ugh. I don't know.

Samson was a weird dude.  

Like, a really weird dude.  He was kind of leery, but not entirely creepy.  But he said he would help.  He actually had a lot of Templar contacts that were already aiding elves, mages, and elven mages to get to secure shelters.  Business was short and sweet; Samson didn't really like dancing around the subject and turning the situation into some kind of game.  He wanted to be paid, I said that I didn't think that would be possible, he said he wouldn't do it if he wasn't getting paid, I said he was doing it already, he said fair point, I said he'd get three coppers for every person he'd ensure safe passage, we shook hands, then we left.

I kind of wanted to get out of that shack as fast as I could, anyways.

Solas and I talked almost constantly from the journey there and back.  We discussed politics, social issues, religion, and everything in between.  And before we reached Haven's city limits, we stopped and had lunch.  All in all, it was a pleasant day.  

I was glad I could go back to the fifth of Haring and remember that day.  Because the day after was...

Was not pleasant.

-

The cough came so suddenly I had no time to cover my mouth before the spatter of blood dashed across the wooden floor of the kitchen.  "Dammit," I muttered exasperatedly, and wet down a paper towel so I could wipe it off before Varric came in and saw it.  I desperately hoped that this whole coughing up blood thing would pass, but doubted it wouldn't because, well, I was  _coughing up blood._ But I probably wouldn't say anything until I was choking on it, since that was how I rolled.  

The dwarf came shuffling down the hall just as I wrapped the bloody paper towel in another to conceal it from any prying eyes.  "Good morning, nameday girl," he grinned.  

I snorted.  "Varric, it's two in the afternoon.  You've been in your office since eight."

He frowned and checked the simple yet expensive watch on his wrist.  "Huh.  Well, would ya look at that?"  Varric took a seat at the counter, peering at the papers and files I had scattered about.  I snapped my fingers at him.

"Hey, don't be roving those eyeballs of yours at my stuff," I said, then began tidying everything up.  I would have done it in my room, but the storm that was brewing outside made everything dark, so the hanging lamps over the counter provided a good light.  

"You could just be putting all this on your computer," Varric commented, taking a finger and using it to slide a stray sheet toward him.  I used an opposing finger myself to stop him.  

"I like having my plans laid out.  It helps me visualize.  Remember that one semester with endless research papers?"

He groaned a laugh.  "Maker, don't remind me.  I thought we'd be ass-deep in index cards forever."

_Fear and shock coursed through my veins, but for some reason I was able to keep running as the Seeker led me into battle against demons.  And who the freak did I get to fight alongside with?  Varric Tethras, Cassandra Pentaghast, and Fen'Harel. Effing video game characters._

**_Video game characters._ **

I flexed my hand into a ball to conceal the pain emanating from it.  Since Varric was on the other side of the counter, he didn't see it.  I also kept my eyes from squinting as my head was hit with a similar pain.  "So when is everybody coming over?" I asked as I distracted myself by rearranging the folders.  

"It's a surprise."

"Six-thirty, huh?"  

"...Yeah."

"Did you get me a piano for the apartment?"

"Maybe," he lied effortlessly with an easy smile and shrug.  "Maybe not.  Guess you'll just have to find out at six-thirty."

"I have..." I started, but trailed off as my phone buzzed loudly on the counter top, then started blasting the  _Lord of the Rings_ main theme song.  The picture that accompanied the name  _SERA!!!!!!!!!!!_ was of a blond elf with her tongue sticking out and fingers shaped into a V.  She was a nasty-ass.

I answered the call.  "What?" I immediately asked.

_"Ay, wot's your size?"_

"For what?  I have lots of sizes for lots of things," I said, making sure she heard my smirk on the other end.

_"Stop bein' such a wanker.  Just gimme 'em all, yeah."_

"Alright, jeez.  I'm a six for shoes, small for shirts, four for pants, five to five and a half for rings, one size fits all for hats, one size fits all for scarves, one size fits--"

_"Thanks, ya bag-o-wangs."_

"You're welcome, you wonderful person you."

There was a static-warped raspberry being blown before Sera hung up.

"Oh, what joy it is to have Sera as a friend."

"She's probably going to put a bow on her head and say she's your nameday gift."

"And I would love her with all my heart."

-

"My dear, you must wear The Crown."

"Viv, I'm turning twenty-four.  I'm not wearing The Crown."

She still put it on me.  It was a tradition of our whole Inner Circle; whoever's nameday it was wore a sparkly, golden, hideous crown.  The headpiece that had been worn by The Iron Bull, Dorian, Vivienne, and even Cassandra looked like it belonged on an eight-year-old girl.  

"Pictures!" Josephine tittered, and stood beside me so she could take a shot of the two of us.  I puffed my cheeks out and crossed my eyes.  The Antivan sighed.  "Please, Alaran, you have such a photogenic face.  Let's cooperate, yes?"

"Alright, alright," I smiled, and fixed my face to the closed-lipped smile I usually used for pictures.  The second before Josie snapped the selfie I jutted my lower jaw out and squinted one eye shut while popping the other wide open.

"Fine," she snipped, trying to hide her oncoming grin.  "That can be the picture I post."

"Do it," I hissed in her ear.  

"My lady, are you being unfairly treated?" Josephine's bearded babe asked as he sidled beside her, giving her a peck on the cheek.  

"It's just Alaran being Alaran," she sighed.  I stuck my tongue out at her and adjusted my crown.

"That's  _Queen_ Alaran, mind you."

_Why be a Queen when you can be an Inquisitor?_

I absently rubbed my brow to chase away the thought and headache.  Now wasn't the time to be weird.  Especially when Bull and Lace stepped through the door, the first carrying a cake with chocolate frosting and the pretty cursive  _Happy Nameday Alaran_ with a toy velociraptor stuck in the corner.  "Harding!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms out wide.  "What're you doing here?"

"Going above and beyond my job," she smirked.  I hugged her, then turned to Iron Bull.  He had just set the cake down on the counter, so his hands were free to pick me up and set me on one of his giant horns.  

"Who's the nameday girl?" he shouted.  

"I am!" I crowed.  The apartment cheered.  Everybody was basically here.  Viv, Dorian, Cass, Varric, Solas, Sera, Cole, Bull, Josie, Blackwall, Harding, the Bull's Chargers, Hawke, Isabela, Seb, Merrill, Anders, Trevelyan--

No.  Not everybody was here.  This whole entourage was...incomplete.

Ah!  Right.  Fenris, Carver, and Aveline weren't here.  Duh.

_No._

Shut it.

For once, our main course wasn't pizza.  It was three giant pans of lasagna, two of which were already scraped clean.  I had also made some of my cheesy garlic bread and lemonade.  "Aw,  _vhenan,"_ I chuckled as I picked up Solas' tie and examined the stain on it.  "You've been a victim of the infamous Lasagna Monster."

"Yes, I have," Solas said dryly.  "I was too proud and headstrong to acknowledge what little resistance I actually had to it."

"Just take it off," I said, tugging on the tie.  "I know it's detachable; it's not like the exoskeleton you make it out to be."

He sighed heavily, as if it were a great sacrifice to do what I suggested.  I held my hands up.  "Fine, fine, don't listen to me.  Walk around with your shame."

"I believe wearing that crown is inflaming your ego," Solas confided seriously.  I used the back of my hand to lightly slap his chest, making him break out into a grin accompanied with a short burst of laughter.  

"Then you'd better watch yourself, Fenharel," I warned with a raised eyebrow.  

"I enjoy watching you more."

"You smooth mother fu--"

"On the count of three!" Varric boomed over the dull roar.  "One, two, three!"

 _"Happy nameday to you,"_ the entire apartment sang.  Solas took a step back and joined in, his low, smooth voice purposefully soft.  I let myself grin at the feeling of camaraderie and love that filled the place, and stepped up to the cake awaiting me.  It was now aglow with...yep, with twenty-four candles.  

_"Happy nameday, dear Alaran...  
Happy nameday to youuuuuuu..."_

Sera practically screamed the last note, Hawke went operatic and lifted a hand up while the other was placed firmly on his breast, the Chargers raised their beers in a salute, Bull repeatedly slammed his giant fists on the counter, Sebastian had his hands uplifted towards the heaven as if he were calling Holy Andraste down to bless us with a divine choir of angels to aid us in singing, Isabela was shimmying and roughly grabbing her boobs, and Anders was sprawled out next to the lasagna and was doing a Paint-Me-Like-One-Of-Your-French-Girls poses while he scandalously drug a finger down his chest.  

It was like this every year.  I've stored every birthday--no,  _nameday--_ to memory.  When I had the time, I would draw this moment.

With my face right next to the toy velociraptor, I blew out the candles in one go.

-

"You ready?"

"Babe.  Come on.  I was  _born_ ready.  I went through  _puberty_ ready.  When we  _banged_ like two minutes ago I was ready.  I was--"

"Wade?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, Hallah."

I drove one hand into Wade's chest cavity and gripped his heart, his spirit, while the other sliced into his brain, his mind.  There was a short, blinding burst of emerald green--

And my husband was gone.

I sighed and ran a hand through my Mohawk, then looked down at the sniper rifle.  Time to get to business.

With a groan, I settled down on my stomach and took aim, not needing a scope to peer through.  I had robot eyes.  Heh.  No, not really.  I had ultimate supreme being eyes.

Honestly, though, I'd rather be screwed sideways by a cactus than do what I was going to have to do.  Yeah, visualize that feeling.  Visualize it and cringe, and know that I would readily accept that option before this.  

But it had to be done. 

-

Solas was looking out the window.  "What do your elf eyes see?" I inquired as I wrapped my arms from behind him.  

"Hm?  Oh, nothing."  He turned to me and smiled.  "Come, let's sit down.  I'm sure you're exhausted from all the unwrapping you did."

"You're being a sassafrass tonight, you know that?"

"Forgive me; when I am happy I tend to become that way."

I kissed him on the lips, which elicited several groans and raspberries.  We took a seat, planning on joining in on the Super Smash Bros. Hawke was currently setting up.  "Oh, look, I'm Alaran!" he said in a horrible falsetto voice, then went on to waggle his butt in the air.  "I don't care if you see my underwear!  Tee hee!"

"I'm gonna pop a cap in your ass if you keep it up, Garrett Jean Hawke!"

Hawke moved so fast he hit his head on the television stand.  "Ow!  Fuck--Alaran!" he shouted as he rubbed his head and whirled on me.  "Who told you what my middle name was?" _  
_

Sera cackled on the bean bag she was on.  "Your middle name is  _Jean?_ Oh, that's fockin grand!"

"It was  _Carver,_ wasn't it?  I'm going to kill that little shit!"

"Alright, calm down," Varric laughed as he moved to join everybody sitting on the couch.  "And Hawke, we all knew your middle name was Jean.  You like to sing your full name when you're drunk--"

The sound of glass lightly breaking.  

The sound of a bullet ripping through skin.

The sound of Varric's choked off cry.

The sound of my scream ringing in my ears.

The sound of him hitting the floor.

"Varric, Varric," I cried desperately as I fell to my knees and cradled him in one arm, the other hand trying to staunch the flow of crimson blood pouring from his chest.  "Varric, please,  _please,_ no.  Maker, no."

"Al," he whispered, still managing to give an easy smile despite the blood trickling from the corner of his lips.  "Alaran..."

I lifted my head and screamed for Anders, for Solas, for anybody that could come and heal him, save him.  Bodies, distant and blurry, crowded around me.  Other hands and their magic swarmed over Varric's wound, but with a crashing, deafening realization, I knew it wouldn't be fast enough.

Blinding hot tears streamed down my cheeks.  "Stay, Varric, please."

"I will," he smiled.  "I will."

I could  _feel_ Varric's life separate from his body.  His sienna eyes turned glassy and vacant, and a soft sigh rattled through his lips.  But blood continued to flow.  Why was the blood flowing?  Why was it still flowing?  It was still flowing he was still alive he was still alive he had to be alive--

The raw wails that tore through my soul would never represent the pure, unadulterated  _agony_ that I felt, that I  _was._

Varric Tethras, rogue, storyteller, and, occasionally, unwelcome tagalong, was dead.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ironically, this chapter also fell on my birthday. Yayy, happy birthday to me, causing pain and feels for everybody around. I couldn't ask for anything else.
> 
> Wait, you know what would be a good birthday present? to follow me on Tumblr at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief
> 
> Stay lovely.


	23. A Cup of Brood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What comes next

Varric was dead.

And somebody was poking his nose.

"...up, yet?  We haven't got all day.  And things are getting  _pretty freaky_ here, if you know what I mean.  And not in the fun way, either."

When he had the strength to open his eyes, all he saw was a blurry red figure with only whites for eyes.  "There he is!" the figure exclaimed.  "Hey, how's your chest feeling?  Do you feel any symptoms of dying, including a question of purpose and a tendency to become self-destructive as you grapple with the thought that everything is meaningless?"

"W...what?" Varric croaked.  His vision continued to clear and, after a few moments of blinking, found who exactly was staring down at him.

Up above him hung the remnant of the Breach, and all around him were the unconscious bodies of his friends.  

Two words collided.  His head twisted in pain as  _everything_ came rushing back.    How could he have forgotten where he was from?  That this place was  _real?_ That he had been in Kirkwall during the Qunari Invasion, that he had been interrogated by Seeker Pentaghast, that he had stayed partly because he couldn't resist finding out how Alaran's story would evolve, how the Inquisition  _fought_ Corypheus' forces, how...

Bile rose in the back of his throat.  "I suspect you have questions," said the masked mercenary, looking dramatically over his shoulder for some reason.  

_Deadpool.  Wade Wilson._

Vivid images of Alaran rushing into Varric's office as he worked himself nearly to death flooded his mind, sparking the pain once more.  She slammed Deadpool comic books in front of him, pointing to panels so they could laugh at the merc's antics and jokes.

Then memories of  _that_ world sprang to life.  The day he found Al rummaging around in a garbage can, looking for food.  The day he adopted her.  Hawke and his band.  His job.   _Driving._ Making coffee in the morning.  Taking phone calls and answering emails and  _how life on Earth would be._

Deadpool--how the fuck was  _Deadpool_ here?--hauled him to his feet.  Everything spun and the ground dipped and pitched underneath him.  "So I'm super glad that whole thing worked," he spoke, giving Varric a jovial pat on the shoulder.  "'Cause you've got a special mission."  Wade looked around until he saw Alaran's lifeless body.  "Ah ha!  There's the culprit of it all!"

They made their way over to her.  Varric's stomach was already queasy enough; seeing Al's nearly gray skin tone and the small trickle of blood escaping from the corner of her mouth almost made him sick on the spot.  

Deadpool burst into laughter.  "Heyy," he drawled, "you were her  _father._ That's hilarious!  Babe told me that even though Little Lamb constructed most of the prison or whatever, everybody's role was pretty much up to them.  And you were her father."  He started singing as he crouched next to the Inquisitor.   _"You were her father, you were her father, you were her--"_

"Would you shut up?" Varric sighed wearily.  He wanted to ask a countless number of questions, but his head hurt too much already to fully form them.  And besides, he suspected Deadpool would only give an answer that left him more confused than before.

 _"Blegh._ You can feel the Wall around her breaking," Deadpool muttered as he started unbuttoning Alaran's vest.  "She dipped her hand in a crock of dangerous shit, that's for sure."

"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" Varric demanded.

"You think you got "killed" because Hallah just felt like shooting up the place and causing grief and sorrow upon Little Lamb and all your friends?   _Typical Varric Tethras,_ thinking that everything's all about you," was the response.  Gloved hands untucked Alaran's strange undershirt.  "You're a writer, right?  Right!  So you should know that you were the typical father archetype that gets dead so the hero can be fueled to do what is right...or something like that.  You know, I wasn't really listening to babe as she explained.   _But..."_ Deadpool tapped the dark, bruised skin encompassing Alaran's torso.  "I do know what that is.  Internal bleeding.  Justice nearly broke the prison, but Al subconsciously diverted it time.  And by diverting it, I mean all of the structural damage was deflected to her body.  Hey!  I think I got that right!"

Varric knelt next to Alaran, his sore heart thumping frantically.  "She's dying, isn't she?" he whispered.

"Seems like it.  Which is  _why_ you were sent back.  Or one of the reasons.  You gotta get some potions here or something, because if Little Lamb dies then the Orb's power is gonna be unleashed and cause havoc and destruction and basically consume her existence.  Hey!  I think I got that right too!"

Varric fumbled for a healing potion.  The moments before they all lost consciousness were coming back to him in broken disjointed pieces.

_Alaran crying out as she clawed at her chest._

_Solas, Dorian and Vivienne all looking bewildered as they examined her limp form.  "Solas, did you--" Dorian began._

_"No, I did not," he snapped, fear plain and apparent in his voice, his countenance._

**_Something_** _escaped from Alaran, enveloping the entire Inner Circle.  Varric fell to his knees as he was overcome with something too powerful to withstand.  It_ felt  _like Alaran, but--_

"Could you save the trip down memory lane for when nobody's dying?" Deadpool interrupted.  He propped Alaran up with surprising tenderness.  

Varric opened her mouth enough to pour a healing potion down her throat.  "She really loves you, you know," he said, trying to distract himself from the fact that Alaran was dying and required more care than a few healing potions.  

_"What are you going dressed as?" he asked as he took a seat at the counter.  She was in her usual spot opposite of him, typing away on her computer._

_"I don't think I'll have time to go to the Halloween party this year, Varric," she said, refusing to look up from the screen._

_His coffee mug paused halfway to his lips.  "...What?"_

_"I have a paper due the next day, and I need to prioritize."  Her voice was calm and challenging._

_But this was the_ Halloween party.   _"No," he said firmly.  "You're going."_

_Alaran glanced up, violet eyes flashing.  "Varric.  I can't."_

_"Nope!  You're going.  It's a done deal.  Get the paper finished before then.  You have two more days.  Just don't go and play music with the Champions."_

_"Varric..."_

_"You're going, Alaran."_

_Her head rolled back and she gave a lengthy sigh.  "Fine, but I'm going to be completely exhausted by the time the party comes around."_

_"And who are you going to be dressed as in your state of exhaustion?" he asked with an easy smile._

_She couldn't hide her own sappy smirk.  "Deadpool."_

"Oh I know.  One day she'll shake my hand not ever want to wash it again.  Wait, do you people wash your hands?  Is that whole medieval thing true about eating with your right hand and wiping your ass with your left?"

Varric's eyebrows furrowed in irritated confusion, but he opted not to answer.  Deadpool didn't mind; in fact, it seemed as if he forgot he asked the question in the first place.  

"How long will it be before they return?" Varric finally said aloud.

Deadpool shrugged.  "No idea.  I'm not Hallah.  I can't give an answer to everything.  I think she put the world in a stasis, though, until Alaran got back and..."  He trailed off and shifted uncomfortably.  "You probably don't wanna know what might happen.  But now we don't have to worry about anybody seeing your whole crew unconscious.  Make sense?"

"No," Varric responded, and uncorked another healing potion.  

"Ah, it's a hit and miss."

After several moments, Varric worked up the courage for his next question.  "What's going on in...whatever that place was?"

"You mean a conglomeration of the Orb and Alaran's mind?  I just wanted to use the word conglomerate.  What does the word 'conglomerate' even mean?  I failed my economics class--"

"Can you answer me?"

"I imagine they're celebrating your funeral.  Sweet, right?"

-

Smile.  

Just smile.

Show them that you're fine.

Show them that you won't be broken.

Show them that you would be strong in this situation.

Shake hands, give hugs, offer tissues, give kind advice, and...

Just smile.

Everybody expected me to be an inconsolable mess.  When I actually held myself upright and refused to shed any tears--or reveal any other emotion besides cordiality--people weren't sure how to take it.  Solas was probably the only one who understood my behavior.  He didn't try to offer words of comfort, only his presence.  When I needed to hold his hand, he was there, and when I needed to cling onto him in the late hours of the night, he let me.  

The others, as distraught and sorrowful as they were, did help me in the only way they knew how.  

Food.

I was brought lots and lots of food.  Solas and I had quiet dinners, the soft melody of old music playing in the background as we spoke about everything but the murder we witnessed.  Blackwall said he would ensure that the police would investigate this, but with all the unrest they were facing with the Red Templars, I doubted it would ever fall through.  And besides, I knew who ordered the hit.  Whether it was on me or on Varric, I didn't know.  But I would get revenge.  Not only for him, but for the countless others who were crushed under Meredith's foot.

Which was why I was traveling to meet with King Alistair Theirin in two day's time.  There we would discuss possible solutions and ways to send relief.  He wouldn't want to become directly involved, that I already knew, but I would push for it nonetheless.  If we had the beloved king and former Warden on our side, we would gain a foothold and get closer to ending the bloodshed.  Solas wanted to come with me, but he had missed enough work already to stay home and be by my side.  No, I was probably going to bring Dorian and Vivienne.  Both of them knew how to play the Game, especially Madam de Fer.  Anders wanted to come and give a first-hand account about the cruelty of the Templars, but as much as I loved him, he could get a little...extreme.  Besides, he had Laurel to look after.  

It was when I was on a Skype call with Leliana that something in my body... _fixed_.  The ache in my chest and the weariness I was feeling faded away, leaving me feeling better than I had in days.  

"Alaran?  Is everything alright?" Leliana asked smoothly.  Though I knew she tried to make it look as if she didn't want anything to do with my personal life, her idle questions gave her away.  

"Huh?  Oh, yeah, everything is fine, actually."  I absently put a hand to my chest and coughed to see if it hurt.  Nope.  Nothing.  "Anyways, what did you want to say to me?"

I caught her sharp blue eyes glance over the screen of her laptop momentarily, like there was somebody else in the room listening to our conversation.  And was that... _hope?..._ flickering across her face.  As her eyes were brought back to me, I swore I saw relief, composed as it may have been.

Oh, what did that little red-head know?  Great, I was becoming as suspicious as she was.  "I have a...contact, of sorts, who may be able to help track whoever it was that shot Varric, as well as infiltrate the Red Templar ranks and get information."

"Why, Leliana," I drawled, leaning forward.  "And here I thought you were just a simple reporter."

"You and I both know that's not true, In...Alaran," Leliana smiled back so easily I almost didn't catch her tiny slip-up.  I did little more than raise an eyebrow; whatever questions I had for her would wait.  We had to remain on the task at hand.  

"And who is this  _contact_ of yours?"

She allowed herself a razor-sharp smile.  "His name is Zevran.  He used to be a member of the Antivan Crows, but now does his own work."

I was perfectly justified to have my eyes widen.  "Zevran?  Zevran Arainai?  I would have thought he was too famous to be an assassin.  Leliana, you want a companion of the Hero of Ferelden to do my dirty work?"

There was something wrong with that statement.  

**_Leliana was there, she was there don't you remember?  At Halamshiral as you walked across the ballroom floor they announced "Veteran of the Fifth Blight, companion to the--"_ **

My hand was already at my brow, rubbing away the painful thought.  They were becoming more painful, as of late.  

"It would only be dirty if he left a mess," Leliana said, taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee.  How did I know that it was lukewarm?  "But the proposition is ultimately up to you to decide on.  Contact me when--"

"Give me more information, first," I interrupted, willingly falling into her trap.  

"Of course."

-

 _Dorian Pavus:_  
_You may want to come over quickly after work. A certain ex-boyfriend of Alaran's_  
_is here. I don't think he knows she's dating somebody else. And as_  
_confident and strong-willed as she is, I don't think she has the heart_  
_to tell him that she's dating you._

 _Dorian Pavus:_  
_Please hurry. He's never been good at comforting, and it's getting_  
_incredibly awkward. And with Garrett here, the said awkwardness_  
_is getting worse by the minute._

Solas wasn't sure how to take Dorian's texts.  He had no idea Alaran had an ex-boyfriend; she had made it seem as if he were her first real one.  Hm.  Maybe he still was, if compared to whoever her ex might be.  

He expected jealousy to spark inside him, but it never came.  His relationship with Alaran was too strong and solidified for him to worry about her doing something.  Even if it was an ex-boyfriend.  He was more curious than anything.

After work he drove over to  _Pavus Loft_ (he would have anyways) and entered through the back alleyway entrance.  Alaran was sitting there, dressed in black jeans, a dark blue sweater, and her favorite black boots.  Sitting around her was Dorian, Josephine, Hawke, and another elf who looked familiar, but Solas couldn't quite place where he had seen him.  

The elf's hair was a shade of white, though not as snowy as Alaran's, that swept across his brow.  His dark skin was patterned with strange tattoos that ran up his chin and hands.  Green eyes penetrated Solas the second he stepped in.

"Hey, there," Alaran beamed, gliding out of her seat and past all of Dorian's unnerving mannequins.  Solas found himself smiling as she wrapped her arms around his waist, then tilted her head and puckered her lips comically for him to kiss.  He pinched her cheeks together to poke them out even more and gave them a sweet peck.  Alaran was resuming to her normal self...or that was what she wanted everybody else to assume.  Solas knew the truth; the death of a loved one was not something healed in a week.  But he would let her put the mask on, like she so expertly did.  When it came off, though, he would be there.  He would always be there for his _vhenan._

"Hello, Alaran," Solas said, just the sound of saying her name making his stomach flutter.  

"Ah!  Solas, I'm so glad you're here!" Dorian exclaimed, standing as well.  He clapped his hands together.  "Well, this has been just a  _fantastic_ talk, yes?  Let's resume it some other time--"

Alaran grabbed Solas' hand and pulled him over to the group.  "Solas, meet Fenris.  Fenris, meet Solas, my--"

"You're boyfriend," he finished, then tilted his head.  "At first glance I thought he was a professor of yours."

"Don't be an asshole, Fenris," Alaran said bluntly.  Dorian was having more of a meltdown than Solas and his girlfriend combined, his finger nervously twirling his mustache and his foot tapping rapidly against the floor.

Solas was going to prove that he could be cordial.  He held out his hand to Fenris who, after a moment, took it and gave two firm shakes.

Lyrium called out to Solas, pulsing and full of life.  He couldn't hide the wonder on his face.  "Yet another mage awed by the atrocity done to my body," Fenris said dryly.  For his age, he had a mature voice.

"Again.  Don't be an asshole," Alaran reminded.  

"You were the drummer who went to Tevinter to help the slaves," Solas said as he wrapped an arm around Alaran's waist.  Dorian made a soft, strangled noise at their actions.  "That takes courage and perseverance.  I commend you."

His compliment took Fenris by surprise; Solas forced his lips to remain straight and pleasant.  "Yes.  I would have stayed longer, but news of Varric's death helped me realize that I could do as much good here as I do there."  He cleared his throat loudly.  "Not...not that Varric's death was a good thing"

Hawke grimaced.  "Oh, don't make it awkward, Fenris."

Dorian was right to want everybody to get out.  Solas turned to Alaran and said, "I was thinking we could go see a movie tonight, if you're free."

"Can we go to a later one?  I wanted to get some work done before eight."

"Of course."  

Solas made the mistake of looking over at Dorian, who was furiously glaring at him to get out.  Hawke was studying the ceiling with interest, Josephine was tapping her thumbs on her phone, and Fenris...

Was glaring ominously at him.  

"Oh!  I need to pick up some groceries for dinner, tonight," Alaran continued, then pulled out her phone to begin making a list.  "I was thinking maybe some shrimp alfredo pasta?  The market should still be open..."

"That sounds excellent; perhaps you can make the list in the car on our way over," Solas said, rerouting the way the conversation was heading.  She gave an absent nod and turned to move.  

"Okay. I'll see you guys later!  Fenris, it was awesome seeing you."

"You as well, Alaran," he just about serenaded.  Solas helped Alaran put her red coat on and handed her the mad bomber hat they had taken up the habit of sharing.  As she talked about what kind of pasta she wanted to use, he couldn't help but feel a particular pair of eyes on them--specifically,  _him--_ as they walked out.

As soon as the door was shut Alaran released a sigh, her breath billowing out in a puff of steam.  "I'm really sorry, Solas."

He couldn't help but let out a short laugh.  "I never took you as somebody who found brooding, pained elves with dark pasts and bitter attitudes attractive."

"Well I like you, don't I?"

"Unlike Fenris,  _I_ am able to sculpt such behavior into elegance, subtle sass, and arrogance."

Her snort made him chuckle.  "You're cruisn' for a bruisin' Solas."  They reached his car, where he opened the door for her to slide in.  The normal routine had become Solas dropping Alaran off at the warehouse where she would do her work, go to his, pick her up for lunch, then drop her off once more at Dorian's shop.  After, they would drive home together.

Home.

Their home.  

"You're being sappy, aren't you?" Alaran drawled.  Solas just gave her a kiss on the lips before he shut her door and moved to the driver's side.

When he got in, he was greeted with gleaming violet eyes and a small smile.  "You're being sappy, aren't you?" she repeated.

"Depends on what meaning you are thinking of," Solas said as he started the car.

"Definitely the one that describes you as a tree covered in sticky sap," Alaran answered sarcastically.

"Let us move back to the original topic, shall we?"

"What?  Me dating Fenris?  I was in high school, he was in high school, we were both angry at the world, made some pretty deep and dark music together, then  _bam._ We were dating."  She tilted her head in thought.  "For a lot longer than I'd expected, too."  Then she shrugged.  "But he has commitment issues, and we were headed in different directions.  It's been about...oh, four years?  And Dorian just likes to make everything dramatic.  Nothing got awkward until you came.  Then he put on his armor and closed up."

Solas asked his next question just to be a pain.  "And has Anders ever fancied you?  If Hawke and Fenris both have, it might as well be a complete triangle."

Alaran opened her mouth to reply, but paused.  "Well...there was this  _one time..."_ Then she flashed a grin and gave Solas a sidelong look.  "Just givin' ya gravy."

_The Breach loomed before them, yet there she was, joking and going about as if it weren't truly there.  Solas couldn't understand how such a person managed to be intelligent and calculating, but still lighthearted and joyful at the same--_

"...always is stand-offish.  But just bear with him; he's had a pretty tough life.  Not that it excuses anything, but it explains a lot," Alaran was saying as Solas was brought back to reality, unable to remember the memory he had recollected just a second ago.  She was drawing a smiley face in the fog on her window.  "And he's not jealous of you.  He's always been protective of me, that's all."

"Isn't everybody?" Solas asked.  

"Uh, yeah.  But even though Fenris and I haven't been anything but friends for years, now, he's always cared for my well-being.  And  _I_ think  _he_ thinks that you're not giving me enough emotional support, especially right now."  Alaran's hand reached out and grabbed Solas' own, her gaze still locked on the window as her finger continued to doodle.  "But you've given me the most."

He lifted her hand to kiss her palm, touching the scar that ran across her soft skin, preparing to say something poetic and meaningful.

She interrupted him, however.  "Oh, and I just wanted to give you a heads up that tomorrow I'm meeting with a renowned assassin.  Ooh!  Should we have shrimp _and_ scallops?"

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only imagine Alaran and Fenris in high school being all angsty together in some abandoned part of the school as they made dark emo music about how much they hated the world. 
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter is short and was a long time coming! I would add more, but my need to post is too great. *unapologetic shrug*
> 
> Wanna see some of the stupid stuff I post? Then follow me at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief and give me pity laughs and reblogs. 
> 
> But for real. Stay lovely.


	24. Do You Think This is The Game?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al talks to important people

We were meeting at a Costco cafeteria.  I was scarfing down a chicken bake and a berry sundae, dressed in faded denim jeans and a  _Welcome to Nightvale_ T-shirt with a flannel thrown over it.  Ironically, I had gotten the flannel just a few aisles back.  For a good price, too.  

The moment I turned my gaze to look at a box boy deftly putting away groceries at the cash register, Zevran Arainai slid into the seat opposite of me.  I kept my surprise and slight awe hidden as we made eye contact.  

"Good afternoon," he winked, his own slice of cheesy pizza in his hands.  "Everybody likes this place, no?"

"Can't disagree with you there," I said back, and took another bite of my chicken bake.  "But why here?  Don't tell me it's the whole, 'nobody expects a secret meeting to go down in a crowded supermarket' strategy."

Zevran flashed a winning, apologetic smile and casually shrugged his shoulders.  "Unfortunately, I cannot.  It's an age-old tactic, and not even our worst enemies could imagine us meeting in such a wholesome, fantastic place."  

In the background a child started to cry.

He took a sexy bite of his pizza, maintaining eye contact.  My eyebrow twitched upwards, but otherwise my face remained still.  "So shall we get down...to business?" he asked.

"That would be lovely," I replied, ignoring the implication.

"Not as lovely as you," Zevran said back.

I bit back a sigh.  "Leliana told me you were a flirt.  Any other day, perhaps, I would undoubtedly banter.  But I take the murder of my adoptive father very, very seriously."  My voice dropped.  "So I would implore, Messere Arainai, that you cut the foreplay and get straight to the stuff I want to hear."

Zevran's grin sharpened into something dangerous.  He leaned in close.  "And I will do nothing but oblige, Serah Lavellan."

-

"Cass, stop."

But she didn't.  Nor would she ever, lest she...lest she  _remember_ just who was missing from her life.  So she continued to hit and kick the punching bag as if it was her own worst enemy.

"I miss him, too."

Cassandra whirled on Alaran, unable to control her rage and directing it towards something else.  "You are going on with your life," she seethed, "acting as if nothing happened!  But not all of us are as  _cold_ as you, as  _conniving_ and  _ruthless._ You seem as if you don't even want to remember him!"

Alaran stood there while Cassandra ranted, taking verbal blow after blow while standing stoically, humbly.  She thought she could yell at her friend forever, the pure anger boiling her veins an unrelenting storm.  

But it ended, just like all things.  And when Cassandra felt the searing hot tears roll down her cheeks and the rawness in her throat, Alaran was there to embrace her, to be the bigger person even with her small stature.  

"I...I am sorry," Cassandra breathed, finally letting go and wiping away the wetness on her face.  The two of them sat on the edge of the boxing ring.

"I forgive you," Alaran replied sincerely, putting a hand on Cassandra's sweaty back.  "And I think I deserved it."

"No, you didn't," said Cassandra bluntly, fiercely.  "I overreacted.  I...I just..."

She curled her wrapped hands and put them over her eyes, a snarl forming on her lips.  "I know, Cassandra," Alaran said gently.  "I know.  We both loved him.  Just in different ways."

Cassandra jerked her head up to immediately defend herself.  "What?  No--I--I..."  She found she couldn't finish.

"We all saw.  You two dopes were just too stubborn to do anything other than get on each other's nerves.  All that sexual tension just  _balled up,_ with nowhere to go..."  Alaran made a face as her hands formed an imaginary sphere, pressing inwards until it was condensed.  Cassandra snorted, but the sadness seeped back into her bones.

"If only I had done something," she muttered.  "Maybe then...maybe then we would have had more time together, more memories."

"Getting hung up on 'if only' statements will do nothing for you.  Trust me, I know."  Alaran stood and ruffled the fighter's damp head.  "Let's go and get some crullers from Lace's shop, huh?  In memory of the great Varric Tethras."

"...I would like that."

-

I took solace in the fact that we were 30,000 feet or so in the air.  It was peaceful, just looking through the window at the landscape below, detached from everything.  Just for a little while, I could pretend that I had no cares or concerns.  Because this was the sky.  Nobody could contact me here, nobody could hurt me here, nobody could touch me here.

Except for Dorian.  

You see, he didn't quite  _share_ my outlook on flying planes.  He wasn't like Solas, who just had a natural fear of heights.  No, Dorian Pavus had a very  _sensitive_ Tevinter tummy, which meant anything swaying or going at a speed above fifty miles an hour gave him motion sickness.  Neither Vivienne or I were going to put up with his headaches, vertigo, and nausea, so we doped him up with some Dramamine and let out sighs of relief when he was finally unconscious.

That being said, Dorian's sleeping noggin rested heavily on my shoulder.  I didn't even have a  _comfortable_ shoulder, according to multiple sources; it was all bone and angles, without a flat, squishy enough surface to be considered adequate.  Yet there he was, a sleeping mask over his eyes and earplugs stuffed in his earholes.  

I myself had some headphones in, as did Vivienne, who made the sacrifice to sit in the aisle seat.  Between my claustrophobia and Dorian's motion sickness, she didn't have much of an option.  As I ignored the work I could be doing on my laptop, Madam de Fer had set down the tray table and pulled out her sketchbook, pencil gliding along the page as a type of ridiculous horned hat came to life.  It was like the Maleficent costume she wore for Halloween, but more decorated and gilded.  

_"Ugh," I groaned as I sat up, the motion making my head spin.  Solas crouched beside me, trying to hide his amusement with concern.  "I don't recommend that."_

_"I will keep that in mind the next time I charge an ogre," he responded, hand cradling my neck as he healed the throbbing ache._

_"It was worse than that time Viv almost impaled me on her hennin."_

I blinked, then gritted my teeth as I tried hanging onto the memory as best I could.  The...whatever they were...had become more frequent in occurrence over the past few days alone.  And I could never  _remember_ just what they were about.  The only thing I managed to keep was the smell of a campfire and the ache of a widespread grin.  The only reason I knew the campfire scent wasn't mine because Varric hated the outdoors and would never want to go make one.  There was never a campfire on the Dalish compound, either.  

I lost whatever it was that rose to my mind.  With a defeated sigh, I changed the song I was listening to and let myself succumb to the intrigue of my imagination.

We landed soon after, Dorian jolting awake upon impact.  Despite the nap, he looked impeccable as always.  It made me curl my lip at him.  "You should really look into putting some meat into those shoulders," Dorian commented as he yawned and patted the spot where he had slept on.  "It would make for a much more comfortable resting place."

"Bastard."

"Brat."

We both snickered.  

It was off to the hotel after.  A black Cadillac Escalade was waiting to pick us up and take us directly to King Theirin's palace.  "My dear, this isn't a gala where some odd mercenary introduces you," Vivienne drilled as she retouched my face with makeup.  "There will be eyes on you, weighing every breath you take."

"So you're saying that with every breath I take, every step I make, they'll be watching me?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.  The driver in the front snorted, but cleared his throat and fixed his eyes on the road.

"We're doomed," Dorian sighed as he twirled his mustache.

"So you're saying that it's the end of the world as we know it?  But I feel fine."

"Alaran," Vivienne chided.  "King Theirin will not take kindly to you only speaking to him in lyrics."

"Maybe it's just me, but I think he'd actually be fine with it," I sniffed.  "What's the point of it being 'The Game' if you can't make it fun?"

I was wholly ignored.  "Recite to me what points you need to make."

I did automatically, saving my speech-voice for when it was necessary.  Dorian asked me questions that pertained to them, both unbiased and biased, kind and rude.  I needed to be prepared for anything and everything if I was to make an impression and sway minds.  Vivienne continued to make tweaks to my outfit and hair, using a magically heated hand to iron out my clothes, which was a royal blue suit jacket fitted specifically to my body, a white-collared shirt buttoned up to my throat, and black slacks with heels.  It wasn't as audacious as wearing anything red, but demanded enough attention to get a message across.  My hair was straightened, a simple braid lining the shaved patch on the side of my scalp.  Curling it would have made it seem that I was trying too hard.  

Underneath it all was the necklace Solas had gotten me for my birthday.  It was a small pendant of a swallow bird, wings set in flight, composed solely out of bloodstone.  I absently touched it, feeling its shape underneath my shirt.  I would be okay.  It would be okay.  

Alistair Theirin was there to greet me personally at the entrance.  He firmly gripped my hand and gave it two shakes.  "A pleasure to meet you again, Lady Lavellan," he said, wearing the golden crown on his head.  After greeting Vivienne and Dorian, he added with a somewhat distasteful face, "I won't lie to you; this may not be a better environment than the last time we encountered."

I remembered the flecks of Briala's blood spraying on my front.  "Believe me, Your Majesty, it would take a lot for it to come to that."

Oh, I should have known not to say those words.  

-

Ivena calmly refilled the glasses of water beside the noblemen and noblewomen, head down and avoiding any eye contact.  She had only heard of Alaran Lavellan, after Briala had been captured.  There were doubts as to whether or not a (former) college student could handle going from being the director of maintaining the network of universities and liaison for the Red Jennies to leading the entirety of two conjoined rebellions.  They all thought Solas would be the one to take Briala's place; the informal announcement of a violinist now controlling everything was a surprise.  

They knew she was coming to the palace to fight for their people.  They had been told prior to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity.

They had not expected Alaran to be so...commanding.

Ivena listened to the debate ensuing.  Alaran, a dark-skinned woman and a man with a well-trimmed mustache stood on either side of her as she made her--their--case and called for support against Knight-Commander Meredith and the Red Templars.  They took turns making points.  Alaran's strong suit was appealing to hearts and morals.  The woman, addressed as Madam de Fer, played on power and gains.  And the man, Master Pavus, swayed with the use of logic and facts. 

Together, they healed deaf ears into listening ones, and turned narrow minds into wide fields.  There were still those who refused to see reason, though.  Those were the dangerous ones.  "...she commands just a small squadron of renegade templars.  It is of no threat," one nobleman said nonchalantly as Ivena filled his glass of water.

Alaran's direct gaze, something composed of lightning and steel, made the man shift in slight discomfort.  Ivena remembered to move out of the way before he was assaulted with cordiality and daggers.  "Do you recall, my lord, the danger that your king was put in a mere month ago from the very same Knight-Commander?  Or of the Circles that have fallen because of the templars that either flee from their duty or join her side?  It is because of my direction and my guiding hand that the mages haven't turned to revenge for all of the atrocities done to them."  Her head tilted a fraction.  "If I remember correctly it is  _you_ who oversees the private funding for the Circle in Denerim.  Have you had any problems with mages trying to kill you or burn your estate down?"

"No," he huffed, "I don't believe--"

"It is because of me that you, your family, and your mistresses have not been threatened," Alaran cut off curtly.  Her eyes moved over the nobility in the chamber, who sat in a raised, crescent-shaped pulpit with King Alistair in the center and his wife next to him.  "I have protected all of you from retaliation that has wanted to be enacted from the years of mistreatment, oppression, and abuse.  If I give my word, I could have a contingent of elves, mages, and their sympathizers at your doorsteps and rioting in your streets."

She wouldn't do that, would she...?

A noblewoman voiced Ivena's own thoughts.  "You wouldn't possibly do that," she sneered.  "Surely you don't think that you could stand against Knight-Commander Meredith and all of Ferelden.  Your forces would be trampled underfoot."

Alaran remained unflinching.  "Fortunately for you, my lady, I would not risk the safety of my people and allies for the sake of making a point.  I am stating that I have already defended you and your homes; now is the time that we are protected in return."

A silence hung in the air.  Ivena hid her grin, already unable to wait to tell the other elven servants that littered the doors beyond trying to catch the conversations.  

"As much as many of us would be happy to aid you in this progressive cause," King Alistair finally said, his crown heavy on his head, "to outright support not one, but two rebellions, would alienate us from every other country in Thedas."

"To ally with us would be to defend your citizens," Alaran said not a moment later.  "Is keeping up tea time with Orlesians more important than that?"

Ah.  She had hit a tender spot.  Ferelden and Orlais had a rocky relationship; to imply that Ferelden would pick them over their own people was a slap in the face.

"How dare you--" the same noblewoman that spoke earlier began saying.

"No, how dare  _you,"_ Alaran interrupted, voice cracking through the air, lightning finally striking.  "Your people are suffering and being  _murdered_ in the streets.  The Templar Order has fallen and you deny that it is even happening.  Circle towers are being burned to the ground, and the only ones who are actively preventing the entire collapse of cities across Ferelden are labeled as anarchists and vigilantes.  The fact that this meeting is even happening insults not only my love for a better place, but your pledge to your kinsmen that you swear daily to protect."  Alaran took another step forward, and then another.  Ivena had finished refilling the glasses, but to leave now would be to miss out witnessing a potential mark in history.  "Now is the time to decide whether or not you would rather preserve a failing, crumbling society on the brink of madness, or act now and bring forth unknown, great change.  I understand your fear, your trepidation, but fear and trepidation is what evil takes advantage of."  She settled her gaze on King Alistair, who had an unreadable expression.  But he didn't look away from her.  "Will you be subject to evil?"

It was a perfect trap she had set the king up in.  He had aided in vanquishing the Archdemon years ago, just a young Warden no more than nineteen years old saving the world from evil.  Being unwilling to help the "good" side would label him as a coward, no matter what the other nobles thought.  Ivena didn't doubt that no matter what excuse King Alistair had, Alaran would make sure that his reputation as a brave, fierce, king who defended his nation would be stripped away.  For all her cordiality and respect for the king, she would no be pressured to back down, even if that meant resorting to ruthlessness.  

"Make your announcement tomorrow at noon, my king," Alaran said, her tone returning to as it had been before.  Ivena loosened her grip on the pitcher handle she was holding, swallowing to calm her racing heart.  Maker, it was a miracle the whole chamber didn't hear it.  "That is the only other thing I..."  She looked to the mages on either side of her, both of them glowing with pride.  "We ask for."

"Very well, Lady Lavellan," Alistair said lowly but clearly.  He banged the gavel to the right of him.  "Dismissed."

Ivena couldn't help but stare as the three powerful figures strode out, leaving behind the buzz of murmuring from those they had just stood before.  Alaran's violet eyes glided over the surrounding view and--

They landed on Ivena.  She froze, wanting to look away but unable to.  Maker, what should she do?  

Alaran gave her a small smile and a slight nod of her head, then moved her gaze back in front of her.  The doors were opened for them and they disappeared from view. 

This was going in her journal tonight.

-

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_I think it's safe to say that we kicked ass._  
_16 Haring 2:35 pm_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_You would be so proud of us, Solas._  
_16 Haring 2:47 pm_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_There was this one part where this noblechick was going on and she stared off with "surely..."_  
_I gave my answer and was really smooth, as usual, but at the end I really wanted to add_  
_"And don't call me Shirley."  But I didn't.  I think I really am growing up._  
_16 Haring 3:00 pm_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_That's alright, don't answer me.  Viv and Dorian are taking me_  
_out to eat.  But are there ever really good places to eat_  
_in the heart of Ferelden amirite?_  
_16 Haring 5:20 pm_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_Goodnight, Solas.  I love you, vhenan.  I hope I can talk to you tomorrow._  
_16 Haring 11:16 pm_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_Is it a perfectly acceptable thing to say that I'm nervous?_  
_10:55 am_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_Being nervous means I care, right?_  
_11:13 am_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_Answer me, yo_  
_11:27 am_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_This isn't funny.  I'm freaking out right now._  
_11:33 am_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_Whatever reason it is that's keeping you from answering, I hope it's a good one._  
_11:40 am_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_It had really better be a good one._  
_11:44 am_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_Is everything alright?_  
_11:48 am_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_He's on air, now.  Holy freak, Solas, this is happening._  
_11:55 am_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_Solas I'm scared._  
_11:57 am_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_We did it.  We really did it.  I can't believe it, but somehow we did it._  
_12:04 pm_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_Did you watch it?_  
_12:05 pm_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_Okay, you should definitely be answering me.  You promised you would._  
_12:07 pm_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_Solas?_  
_12:08 pm_

 _Alaran Lavellan:_  
_Solas, are you okay?_  
_12:09 pm_

Knight-Commander Meredith snorted at the latest message on Solas' phone.  He tiredly watched as she finally dropped it on the ground and crushed it underfoot.

"Start over from the beginning," she said to the Red Templar in the room.  "If he gives the same answer, beat him."

"Yes, ma'am."

Solas gritted his teeth.  He would reveal why his last name was Fenharel soon enough.  But that would require accumulating his mana, his stamina.  Patience was needed.  

It was a wonderful thing that Solas was one who developed practicing patience a long time ago.

May the Dread Wolf take them all, indeed.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the WORST writer's block for this chapter. I mean, I've never had to think this hard about this chapter before. There was literally a point where I was driving with my friend in the car and I was thinking about how Alaran and Zevran would meet and she goes, "You're pretty quiet. Is everything alright?" And I said "I'm fine" but what I really meant was that I had no idea how I was going to write the next chapter and what was I going to do to get from point A to point B and man I'm dying back here and my brain feels like poop and it shouldn't feel like that it should feel like a brain. Ugh, it killed me. But I got better, fortunately. My brain feels better, now.
> 
> Oh! And you know Ivena? The elf? She was the one in the second chapter to freak out when Alaran awoke in Haven after closing that rift underneath the Breach. And after, when they made Skyhold their new base of operations, she was Alaran's prime "servant." But it was always more than that. They were friends (I'm probably going to put in a chapter about it in It Was a Long Story).
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief
> 
> Are you guys staying lovely? I hope so.


	25. Little Lamb Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When will people understand that Alaran isn't somebody to be messed with?

Alaran didn't appear stricken as she was told that Solas had been kidnapped by the Red Templars, Vivienne noted.  As the Antivan-accented, renowned assassin known as Zevran Arainai informed her what he gathered about both Varric's death and Solas' disappearance, Alaran's expression hardened into something of cool, collected vengeance and fury.  She could already see the elf's mind working at incomprehensible speeds, processing what she was hearing and formulating multiple ways, if not to solve it, then to get revenge.  

Meredith Stannard had made a horrible mistake.

"Is there anything you wish for me to do?" Zevran asked as he sat in one of Dorian's chairs, feet propped up on the table and the front two legs of the chair hovering in the air.  The second they landed back in Haven, Alaran was on her phone, brushing aside any formalities by contacting Solas' workplace or friends and going straight to the assassin.  He was the one who would have the clearest answers on everything.  When Zevran informed Alaran of the new predicament, they agreed on meeting in Dorian's shop, among his countless mannequins.  Vivienne even saw that one was labeled with her name.  It was dressed in an impeccable gown, though, so she had nothing to say about it.

"Find out where they are keeping him," Alaran answered as she typed on her laptop, getting in touch with "their" people.  "I know Meredith has multiple outpost locations, but the sooner you find him, the more you'll get paid and the more appreciation you'll have from me."

"And I cherish the second more, of course," the former Crow said as he languidly moved from his position.

"How do you know we can trust him?" Dorian questioned, shooting Zevran a cautious look.  

"If Leliana trusts him, then so do I."

"That Orlesian reporter?  The vicious one?"

"You should hear her sing," Zevran put in, winking back at Dorian.  The mage huffed and rolled his eyes, but he tapped his foot in the way that told he was flustered by the act.

"Yes, the one and only.  I've never known her to trust anybody until the mention of Messere Arainai over here.  And if I don't trust her exactly, I trust her motivation to get a good story.  And this certainly will be a good story."  

"Vanquishing evil is my specialty, no?" Zevran said, flashing a dazzling grin Vivienne knew to watch out for in her line of work.  "You don't have anything to fear from me, Master Pavus."

"How did you know--"

"I am sworn to my loyalty.  It is my life, my blood, my  _essence._ Without it, I know not who I would--"

"You'll find another payment in your bank account..." Alaran interrupted, pressing a finger down on the  _Enter_ button on her laptop.  "Now."

Zevran's phone went off in the pocket of the black jeans Vivienne would have thought look atrocious on any male body.  On his, however, they were suited quite well.  In fact, Zevran Arainai's clothes were purposefully casual to the point that they were anything but.  Besides the jeans, he wore boots and an olive green jacket too light to protect him from the cold outside, and a black shirt underneath.  Vivienne could just barely pick out the daggers hiding in the boots and the knives up the sleeves of his jacket.

"Ah!" he exclaimed gladly as he checked what she assumed to be his bank account.  "I certainly would have done it for free, Serah Lavellan, but I thank you for the money."

Alaran gave Zevran a cold stare from over the top of her computer screen.  Typically, anybody caught on the receiving end of such a thing would avert their eyes and shift uncomfortably, perhaps excuse themselves entirely.  But the assassin had dealt with dangerous employers, before, and knew how to remain on the light side of things with a sharp grin.  "I look forward to the day when we can actually get to know one another, and not when you're in the midst of controlling several rebellions and battling a madwoman who, for some reason unbeknownst to me, is more fond of mince meat cookies than pineapple filled ones.  A tell-tale sign of villainy, of course."

Her gaze softened somewhat, and the indent of an almost-dimple appeared near the corner of her mouth.  "As do I."

Zevran coyly shot Dorian another look.  "Then I can get to know this handsome Tevinter man better."

"Believe me, you don't need to know Alaran to do that," Dorian said right back.

Alaran rolled her eyes.  "Ugh.  Is there an assassin service I can call so I can ask how to reset mine so it  _won't_ flirt with mustached mages?"

"I like the mustache.  It is very stylish," Zevran said, tilting his head as he examined Dorian's facial hair.  The Tevinter had the decency to scoff.

The two women shared a look before Alaran began packing her laptop.  "Find him, Zevran," Alaran said before they departed.

"I will, Alaran."  His name rolled off her tongue like a sweet candy.  "Oh, before I forget, would you like me to share with you the identity of the person who killed your beloved dwarf?  Or would you rather I wait?"

For a few moments, the only sound that was audible was the ventilation system of the building.  "Dorian.  Vivienne.  Would you two give us a moment?"

Vivienne wanted to object.  But after she and Dorian shared a similar look that read,  _Would we rather go against Alaran or die?_  It was a commendable trait, the incitement of fear the white-haired elf could ignite in the strongest of people...the only person immune to it had been Varric.  

"Very well, dear," Vivienne said.  She would hear who it was later.  

"Give me a ring," Zevran called out to Dorian as they departed.

The last thing Vivienne heard before the door shut was Alaran asking, "Who?"

-

The assassin's phone was handed over to me, a single picture on the screen.

My blood ran cold.

"She even managed to pose for the picture.  It's commendable, I must say."

My eyes scanned every inch of the image.  There was Mrs. Wilson, the woman who had my back and introduced me to King Theirin, and whose husband saved me from Red Templars.  Her Mohawk was pushed in a backwards fashion, she wore a snowboarding coat with lobsters on them, black leggings that made her legs look miles long, and Sperry's.  Zevran was right; she had posed, even though she was walking out of a coffee shop with a steaming cup in her bare hand.  A rock'n'roll sign was thrown up and and she was grinning crookedly, revealing perfect, white teeth.  Emerald eyes looked straight into the camera, still holding a substantial amount of life to them.

"From your reaction, I take it you know her?"  Zevran plucked his phone from my grasp.  "She and her husband are quite the notorious mercenary-slash-assassin team.  The best of the best know to stay away from them.  Myself included.  But the least I could do was inform you of who the hired killer was."

"How did you find out," I said flatly.

"Picked up on a few leads that she most likely set herself."

"Okay."

Zevran shrugged and turned to leave, humming idly.  It faded when he reached the door, followed by a hefty sigh.  I watched numbly as he hung his blonde head and swivel back around on his heels.  "Those eyes," Zevran muttered.  "You do realize you look very sad, no?"

"Is that my expression?   _Ir abelas."_ I ignited my anger, and Zevran's expression shifted into something more...respecting.

"I pity the people who are on your bad side, Serah Lavellan."

-

Sera put her feet up on the dashboard of my car, getting it immediately dirty with slush and muck.  I could care less.

"Why are we going to his workplace, again?" she asked as she slid her sunglasses up and down the bridge of her nose.

"Because I need to see if Solas left his computer there.  I can't find it anywhere at home, and I need to know if I should worry about the Red Templars having it.  If it's at work, though, then I can grab it and erase all the files."

"Blah blah blah, I don't really care about all that techy stuff.  I just wanna find his laptop and get the fock out of there.  My people don't like not knowing if their business is in the hands of fockin crazy ladies."

"I'm trying to stay calm here, so please don't freak me out."

Sera, instead of giving me a sympathetic look and comforting advice, punched me in the shoulder.  "Don't be such a fockin pinched-up wang."

I shoved my hand against her face with a huff of a laugh.  Sera gripped my wrist and bit down.  "Ow!  Ugh, you're a savage flat-ear, aren't you?"

"More savage than a fockin knife-ear, yeah."

"I hate you."

"Good."

We pulled into the looming building of Inquisition Laboratory.  Sera groaned and tucked her feet back down.  "Let's go get this over with, Ally."

I turned the ignition off and stepped out.  We entered the building, I said hello to the receptionist, Sera stuck her wad of gum on a giant vase before we got into the elevator, and once the doors slid shut I rested my head on her shoulder and held back the frustrated tears threatening to spill out.  She kissed my tattooed forehead.  "If anybody needs an ass-kicking, I'll do it for you, free of charge.  That's what ya call delegating, right there."

I snorted a laugh.  "Thanks, Sera.  I love you."

"Love you, too."

The elevator  _dinged_ open.  I straightened and put on my calm, collected face.  With authority, I strode into the workplace, keeping my head held up high despite the buzz of murmurs I heard.  I walked into Solas' office.  "Fock, he really was a tight-ass," Sera commented as she picked up a glass paperweight.  "What's--"

"Freak yes," I breathed as I pulled out Solas' computer bag from under his desk.  "Thank you,  _ma vhenan._ I'm going to get you out of--"

The door burst open and I leaped to my feet, preparing to defend myself for the reason I was there.

But it was only Dagna.  "Oh!  Oh, is everything okay?" she gasped, nearly running in and squeezing me in a tight embrace.  "Nobody at work is talking about it, but they know what happened!  We all know, a-and it makes me so mad that I'm the only one who cares!"

"Slow down, Dagna," I said.  "Explain to me what happened."

"Can't!  I'm on a tight shift.  But I can meet you later for...for coffee?  Food?  Tea?  I don't know what you drink or eat, so I can't exactly say.  Where's that place that you always got those doughnuts from?  I liked those!  Want to go there?  If it's an actual bakery and not like a supermarket or anything--"

 _"Lace's Bakery Shoppe._ Seven."  If I didn't interrupt Dagna now, then she would never stop talking.  Gosh darn, she was so cute.

"Gotcha!  See you then!  Er, hopefully, that is."  She turned to head back out, but not before giving a jovial wave and an excited, "Hi there!" to Sera.  The elf had an expression on her face that I hadn't really seen, before, and it was fixed directly on Dagna.  

As soon as she left I raised an eyebrow at my friend.  "You wanna come to Lace's place at seven?"  

She shrugged, but it was too nonchalant and uncaring to be real.  "Sure.  Whatever.  I mean, it's not like I care or anything."

"Uh huh."

-

The sounds of fingers rapidly moving over a keyboard filled the townhouse.  I sat alone in the bed, the screen of the laptop illuminating the space around me.  I was wearing one of Solas' t-shirts--it was sprayed with a dash of his cologne.  Other than that I was just in my underwear.  I always worked better when I didn't have pants on.

I tried not to let worry consume me.  If I did, I wouldn't get anything done.  I had to be...I had to be all four.  Soldier, poet, queen.  I had to be the In--

**"...Al, come on, Al, don't be doing that.  You've gotta get better, alright?  You won't believe who's with me, right now.  But you have to come back so you can see.  That's the only way."**

My lungs suddenly wouldn't allow air to come in.  I tried choking out some kind of cough, just  _something,_ but there wasn't anything to get out except my entire lung itself.

I scrambled over to reach my phone on the nightstand.  I had to call somebody so they could get over here and...

And what?

I could feel that I was dying.  In fact, I  _knew_ that I was dying because I heard Varric's voice.  

My phone fell out of my hands, vision clouding with red and black spots.  I toppled out of the bed and onto the wooden floor, the dry, ragged sounds terrifying me because I  _swore_ I made them, before.  

Just as I felt my mind separating from my body, I...started breathing again.   _Really_ breathing.  Like, oxygen going in and carbon dioxide coming out.

As I lay on my back in the dark with Solas' faint cologne wafting to my nostrils, I began to cry.  The tears were hot and angry and reminded me that I was alive and I was scared.  Not for myself, but for those who I loved.

After three minutes of letting my emotions empty themselves out, I slowly crawled back onto the bed, wiped my cheeks dry, and continued sending out messages.  I wasn't going to let Meredith incite fear longer than she already has.  

They thought the Knight-Commander was frightening?  

They hadn't met me.

-

Sera's phone buzzed.  She paused her video game long enough to check it.  A mad cackle bubbled up from her chest upon seeing the image.  

-

Dorian's phone buzzed.  He faltered in his conversation with Zevran over the dinner they were having to check it.  He emitted a low, dry laugh upon seeing the image.

-

Vivienne's phone buzzed.  She set down her glass of wine and looked away from the episode of  _The Office_ she was watching to check it.  Sparks of electricity danced across her fingers upon seeing the image.

-

Iron Bull's phone buzzed.  He reached over Harding's body that was entangled in his arms to check it.  He rumbled a "let's go, Boss" upon seeing the image.

-

Cassandra's phone buzzed.  She stopped the treadmill she was running on to check it.  A wry smile twisted her lips upon seeing the image

-

Cole's phone buzzed.  He stood up straight from crouching next to a homeless person on the street to check it.  He muttered a "we will not fall" upon seeing the image.

-

Blackwall's phone buzzed.  He set down his workshop tools to check it.  He barked a surprised laugh upon seeing the image.

-

Josephine's phone buzzed.  She momentarily withdrew from her online poker game to check it.  A soft gasp escaped her upon seeing the image.

-

Leliana's phone buzzed.  She lifted her fingers off of her keyboard to check it.  Fresh and foreign anxiety threatened to corrupt the excitement coming to life upon seeing the image.

-

Cullen's phone buzzed.  He looked at it curiously as he ate a cup of Ramen.  The memory of a single email prior telling him that he would be a part of it if he wanted to rose to his mind upon seeing the image.

-

The image was of the silhouette of a dragon on a backdrop of green.  In the center of it, scrawled in unique, slanted handwriting, were two words.

_We Rise._

_-_

Solas wiped the blood off his mouth and let out a low, hoarse chuckle.  They had dispelled his magic and forced him back into his elven form, but not before he tore the throats out of two Red Templars.  They underestimated him; death was the result.  

Their blood tasted...wrong.  Solas doubted he would be affected by it, but it still made his stomach clench.  

Meredith stormed in, the sight of her looking at her dead men burning into his memory.  "You..." she seethed.   _"You..."_

"How does it feel, Knight-Commander?" Solas asked as he leaned against the wall.  "How does it feel to be afraid?"

"I am not afraid,  _elf."_

"You will be.  Do you believe that my capture has gone unnoticed?  You already took one person away from her; there will be even more catastrophic repercussions to come, now that I'm here."

She struck him across the jaw.  He staggered, but did not fall.  There was definite fear in her cold blue eyes, a disease spreading into her marrow and muscles.  Something had happened.  Something that Solas was not aware of. 

Ah.  But he did not need to see to know.  Alaran had acted.  And she ensured that she was a force to be reckoned with.   _"Dirthara-ma,"_ Solas spat before he was felled to the floor by a baton.  

-

Iron Bull, Dorian, and Sera stood with me as we went over the blueprints.  "You sure you want to do this, Boss?" the Qunari asked me.

"You sure you want to ask that question?"  He waited for me to take a breath and collect myself.  "Sorry, Bull.  Yes, I'm sure I want to do this.  I've already set up a distraction; we'll have about thirty minutes to find Solas and any other prisoners in the keep."

"Are we gonna get to blow shit up?"  Guess who asked that.

"Did Dagna give you that special recipe?"

"Fock yeah."

"Then if it comes to it, yes."

"This whole thing is insane," Dorian huffed.  "It's a good thing I've lost all respect for common sense."

"Are you going to get us matching outfits?" Iron Bull questioned with a  grin.

Dorian opened his mouth to protest, but paused and reconsidered his original retort.  "I could scrounge up something on short-notice."  He gazed up and down at my body.  "And if you want to make a scene, you had better look the part."  He followed up with the question, "are you going to wear your red coat?"

"Uh, no.  I like that too much to get destroyed."

"Well you are."

"Red coat, Red Templars...I don't think that sends the right message."

"Hm.  Well, you still are."

"So when're we gonna do this?" Sera cut in before Dorian and I could argue about my wardrobe any further.

"In..."  I checked the time on my phone.  "One day."

"Boss.  You're shitting me."

"What, scared,  _The_ Iron Bull?"

"I just want to make sure we're not going into this unprepared."

My eyes scanned the blueprints.   _"Maker's breath, are we just going to stand here all day while you memorize the map or are you going to make a decision?" Cullen sighed exasperatedly._

_"I've already memorized the map, Commander Rutherford, and to be honest I'm just taking up time until Leliana reconsiders her plan of action."_

_"Inquisitor," Leliana said lowly as Cullen and Josephine were on the verge of tearing their hair out.  "You underestimate my abilities."_

_"No, I don't.  I am perfectly aware of your abilities.  I just don't like how you're planning on using them."_

_"Can I go?" Cullen asked.  "I have more important matters to attend to than standing here squinting at Lake Calenhad."_

_I put a hand to my chest, quite affronted.  "Why Cullen, surely you don't..."_

"...Oi, you there, spacey?"

Sera nudged my shoulder.  I frowned and scratched the side of my shaved head.  What was that memory?   _Hold onto it, hold onto it so you can--_

Nope.  It was gone.  

I sucked in a short breath of air.  "We're not going in unprepared.  Not after I tell you my plan."

-

I felt the shift of the prison, a ripple in the construct that told me Alaran was getting ready.  She was getting ready to make her move.  She would probably kill Meredith or something like that and think it would be the end of it, sweep Solas off his feet and kiss him as fireworks burst in the sky, and then come after me.

But she wouldn't have to "track" me down.  I would come to her.

Because it was time.  The conflict Alaran subconsciously devised to give her time to prepare for the battle against what she was keeping inside her was coming to a head; that meant afterwards the real war would start.  And when that happened?  I, Hallah Lynne, would make my grand entrance, revealing my true identity and helping Alaran regain what she had so carefully stowed away to keep everybody safe.  

And I was worried.  Ugh.  I was an all-knowing supreme being, yet I was freaking out.  The feeling was something I thought I had given up when I was still mortal; how could people stand it?  

I sealed another fissure in Hawke's and Anders' basement (but unofficially it was Merrill's and Laurel's, too).  They got some pretty frequently because of Justice.  And because of that, I heard some...interesting...conversations.  None that I disagreed with, of course, but some that made me laugh.  A few times I laughed so loudly that I thought they would hear me, but nobody ever came down. 

My loins yearned for Wade.  Wait.  No, my  _heart_ yearned for Wade.  Okay, okay, both.  Both were pretty accurate.  I hoped he wasn't doing anything...oh, who was I kidding?  He was doing something.

I loved him so much.

-

Varric almost wished he was dead.

Then he wouldn't have to deal with Deadpool.

The mercenary had somehow produced a Sharpie and was drawing a penis on the back of Madame de Fer's head.  It had only been twenty minutes and he had already drawn starbursts over Iron Bull's nipples, a unibrow on Dorian's forehead, poorly sketched Dalish tattoos on Sera, a scrambled egg on top of Solas' scalp, and a goatee on the bottom of Cassandra's lips.  And that was just doodling.  Varric didn't want to remember the Christopher Walken impression he had to hear, or the detailed way Deadpool described the poop he excreted after Hallah's special spicy squid tentacles.  It was...traumatizing.

And all the while Al was slowly dying in his arms.  Her breathing started to sound wet before he poured another potion down her throat, but Varric could tell that the steady supply was doing less and less for her body.  

"...So I was like, 'Really, they're making a movie of me?'  And babe's like, 'Uh, yeah, why couldn't you look like Ryan Reynolds?'  How sucky is that?  My wife shouldn't be saying that to me!  I mean, I'm pretty secure in my masculinity and all that, but--"

"Look," Varric interrupted, "I'm sure at any other time I would be happy to talk to you about it, but right now I'm kind of preoccupied."

"Ah, don't worry about it.  Babe's got everything taken care of," Wade assured, making several relaxing hand gestures.  "You can trust her.  She loves Little Lamb like a sister.  Or daughter.  Or great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grrrrrrrreeeeeeeeaaaaaaattt granddaughter.  Or just a BFF.  She has plenty of mortal BFFs."

"Your wife shot me."

"Because she  _had_ to if she wanted to keep Alaran safe.  Safe from you."  Wade tugged on his crotch to adjust himself before continuing.  "'Cause apparently somebody just likes to remember where he's from at the worst time possible."

"How is that--"

"Don't know, don't care.  I lost my last fuck to give on a bright sunny day, standing naked on my balcony with my lady feeding me a breakfast burrito dressed in Captain America lingerie.  But lemme tell ya this, my short friend:  you talk bad about my wife, and I'll chop off your thumbs."

The two stared each other down for a few moments before Varric got a grip of himself and let it go.  With a nod he said, "Alright, alright.  I promise I won't.  She was the one who brought Al here in the first place, after all."

"Duh."

There was a moment of silence before Wade groaned loudly into the frozen night air and approached Varric and Al, crouching down beside them.  "Babe will be able to fix the details of it, later, but..."  He rolled down his red glove, revealing scarred and withered skin.  "I have a little trick up my sleeve.  Eh, get it?   _Up my sleeve?"_

Wade pulled out a knife and sliced into his skin.  "Whoa, hey, what do you think you're doing?"

He was ignored.  A song ensued.

 _"Deadpool had a Little Lamb,_  
_Little Lamb_  
_Little Lamb!_

_Deadpool had a Little Lamb,  
Whose lungs were shot to crap..."_

Wade then said, "And I forgot the rest."  He then hung his arm above Al's ajar mouth and let red blood drip into it, splashing across her pale lips and ashen skin.  "Drink it up, Little Lamb.  Just like a blood-flavored slurpee."

"What will... _that..._ do?" Varric had to ask with mild horror as he watched.

"It'll, you know, heal her or whatever.  I mean, she's going to probably have some serious side effects when she wake up, but hey at least she  _will_ wake up.  Maybe.  Okay, so technically she  _won't_ die before she's supposed to have the boss fight so that's good, right?"

"What side effects," Varric growled.

"Uhh...voices in her head?  Severe hallucinations?  Cancer?  You know you can't be too sure about stuff like this so I don't want to get into the specifics."

After a few moments, Alaran's chest returned to normal movements.  Wade leaned back and sighed contentedly.  "You know, Varric, I'm really enjoying this bonding time.  Oh, you know what?  We should definitely follow each other on Twitter!"

"I don't have a Twitter here," Varric said dryly.

"Eh, that's okay.  We can be pen pals instead!  Much more sincere and considerate, anyways."

"...Yeah.  Let's do that."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter before things start getting good! 
> 
> ...I don't really have much else to say, so, uh, I guess I'll head right to the acknowledgements. I'd like to thank my mom, for wondering what I was typing all the time when I was visiting, I'd like to thank my roommates for not caring how long I've spent playing video games, and I'd like to thank all of you guys, for supporting Al and this journey she's going on. You're all lovely. Please, continue doing whatever it is you're doing to be lovely.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief but you probably already know that from the five million other times I've put it here in the notes. Do you guys even read these? Hmm.


	26. The End is Nigh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all start to remember

_"...This is Leliana Nightingale, reporting for Orlesian National News.  I am currently standing outside the supposed location of Red Templar headquarters.  What you see behind me are not police or Chantry forces; they are members of the Rebellion, headed by a Dalish elf by the name of Alaran Lavellan.  So far, there has been no activity.  What is the cause of this sudden movement?  With me is Sera--"_

[The microphone is ripped from Leliana's hands by a blonde elf wearing a parka and a flannel underneath.  The tips of her ears and nose are red from the cold.]

 _"Oi!  F(beep) Meredith!  She F(beep)g thinks she can get away with this s(beep)?  No!  No more!  The f(beep)g Chantry won't f(beep)g do anything!  The f(beep)g Templars are s(beep)!  Alaran Lavellan is the only one who is taking change into her own f(beep)g hands!  The Red Templars wanted to take us?  Well we're here, baby!"_ [She holds up a rock sign]   _"We Rise!"_

[Cheers erupt from the crowd that was listening.  Leliana stands with a forced smile bordering on livid.]

-

I grimaced at the text sent to me and made the decision to ignore messages from Leliana for the next little while.  When Sera came into the alleyway Dorian, Iron Bull, and I were gathered, I splayed my hands in front of me in disbelief at what I had just seen air on national television.  "Dude!  I told you to cut back on the swearing!"

Sera gave her response.  "Yo, when ya tell me  _not_ to swear, that does some freaky things with my brain and makes me want to swear  _more."_

I shook my head and pinched the bridge of my nose.  Whatever.  I wouldn't worry about it.  We had the proper distraction, and everybody who was out there standing at the gates were fully prepared to face whatever would come.  I still worried about them, though, which was why I wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible.  

"You ready, Boss?" Iron Bull asked, looking down at me with his one pale green eye.  I gave a single nod and ran my hands over my red coat to smooth over the nonexistent wrinkles, turning my gaze to the door we were standing outside of.  Solas was inside, somewhere.  I was going to get the missing piece of my heart back.  

"Yeah.  Let's go."

Dorian's full-sized stave was in his grasp.  He pointed it at the bolted entrance.  In one cold burst the lock froze.  We all then stood back as Iron Bull charged into it shoulder-first.  There was little chance the door could hold up to a Qunari; but with an even  _bigger_ Qunari like Bull, I had been positive in assuming that he would get us in. 

And it seemed I was correct.

_Ugh, he's smiling, and I KNOW IT WAS YOU, FUCKO!  YOU WERE THE ONE WHO CAUSED ALL OF THIS!  That butthole in the sky??  It's all your fault!_

I tried clinging on so tightly to the fading, distant memory that I literally stopped and leaned against the wall of the templar building, grumbling softly and squeezing my eyes shut.  "Whoa, you ain't gettin' cold feet, right?" Sera asked.  I waved her off.

Then I couldn't remember what I was desperately trying to hold onto in the first place.  That resulted in a frustrated sigh.  "No, I...it's not worth explaining.  All of you will just look at me like I'm crazy."

"We already do, darling," Dorian pointed out.  I rolled my eyes at him.

"I knew I wouldn't have to worry about your impeccable, on-point sarcasm disappearing at a time like this."

"You  _are_ one of the smartest people I am friends with, so I expect nothing different."

**_It's almost time._ **

I remembered that thought solely due to the pain that erupted in the palm of my left hand.

-

Cullen's breath was seen in visible, frequent puffs as he, Blackwall, and a few other officers assigned to try and keep from absolute riot were stationed outside of the Red Templar building.

_He could have been one of them._

With a small shake of his head he banished the thought.  Now as definitely not the time to be thinking such things.

"Maker, look at them all," Blackwall said lowly as they surveyed the almost overwhelming number of elves and mages.  Just the thought that there were apostates in the crowd set his teeth grinding.  Not out of anger, but out of fear.  If things got out-of-hand, there would be no templars around to control the mages and prevent further chaos.

Then he realized what the defining word that made all this occur was.

_Control._

"You said that... _she_ might be here" Cullen said as quietly as he could without whispering.

"Alaran?  Yes.  I mean, they all stopped talking as soon as I knocked, but I heard enough to get an idea of what they're planning."  He paused before adding, "She's a good young woman.  And smart.  Maker's balls, she's smart.  I don't think she'd want her people rioting.  Just as a distraction, I mean."

Then they looked at each other again, realizing just what Blackwall had said.  Simultaneously they turned on their heels to look at the looming building long thought abandoned.

"Oh, Maker's breath," Cullen said somewhat exasperatedly.  "She's in there, isn't she?"

Blackwall huffed.  "Most likely."

"...Do you think she's doing the right thing?"

"Yeah.  You?"

"...Yes."

-

Leliana watched in anxious silence at the headquarters.  Now that the cameras weren't on her, she could finally show some emotion other than neutrality.  Or, more specifically, now that  _nobody_ was looking at her, she could.  

"You seem tense, Leliana," a smooth, rich voice put in.  She refrained from jumping.  Maker, he had always been the only one who could do that to her without her knowing until it was too late.  

"Hello, Zevran," she said dryly, not taking her eyes off of their original spot.  The assassin joined her side, dressed in clothes unsuitable for winter but showing no signs of being affected by the cold.  "What brings you here?"

"I can never stay away from a good story.  Wait, that's your line, is it not?  Forgive me."  He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets.  "Should things become dire, I may be able to lend my assistance."

"Against whom?"

"Those that would do my lover harm."

The statement actually made Leliana turn her head to look at him.  "Who?" she inquired more excitedly than she had intended.  During their time traveling with the Warden together, he had always flirted with everybody--including Brosca--but never actually took somebody to romance.  So of course she was interested.  Hopefully it wasn't Alaran; the two of them flirting combined could result in...

_...Brosca was going to tell her something.  Sat her down at the edge of camp where nobody could hear them, his thick fingers gently enclosed around hers.  Sweet Maker, how did he manage to smell so fresh in the midst of everything?  Her heart was fluttering in anxious excitement.  "Leliana, I..."_

_Then all she could see was his mouth moving, no words coming out.  She could hardly recall the feelings that may have helped her understand what was being said.  Shortly after that, the next thing Leliana remembered was waking up next to him, enveloped in his large arms, the stubble on his cheek tickling her neck._

_What had he told her?_

Zevran's tutting brought Leliana back to the present situation in front of them.  "Now, now, Leliana, we have a rebellion just a few feet away.  Should it be the best time to ask?"  

After a brief silence he grinned and willingly answered.  "Dorian.  Dorian Pavus."

The same Dorian Pavus who might lose his life in there.

 _This isn't real.  Even if they die, they'll be transported back to the_ real  _Thedas.  It will be okay._

_Unless, of course, Meredith's infection of red lyrium does something terrible.  Hallah Lynne hadn't been too clear on that._

_Maker take that woman, where_ was  _the pesky Traveler?_

_-_

 "I don't understand why we're here," Anders complained as he, Hawke, Trevelyan, and the rest of the band sat with barely concealed tension in his house.  The television was turned onto the ONN station, who was covering the could-be battle right outside the uncovered Red Templar headquarters.  "We should be out there, freezing our asses off, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst."

"If you don't recall," Fenris answered, tearing his eyes off the screen to glare at Anders, "you have a rather  _harmful_ spirit in you.  Remember the last time you were in a tense situation where Alaran was nearby?"

"That's not--"

"Justice somehow sent her into a temporary  _coma."_

"You weren't there," Andes spat heatedly.  "You don't know.  Neither do you know what I went through in the Circle--"

"Oh Maker's  _balls,"_ Isabela groaned over the arguing.  "I thought I would never have to hear such childish bickering again."

"Please, don't," Merrill pleaded.  Her hand was laced with Hawke's own, both their nerves calmed somewhat by the other's touch.  "Just this once, could the two of you shut your mouth holes and not talk to each other?"

"Seconded," Sebastian called from the kitchen.  When he was nervous, he tended to bake.  The house currently smelled like a combination between chicken parm, triple chocolate brownies, and pizza pull-aparts.  As a result, everybody was nervous  _and_ stuffed.  

"Remember the first day we met Alaran?" Hawke said suddenly, an absent smile tugging on his lips at the memory.

Isabela chuckled.  "She was what society calls  _smol."_

"Remember when Fenris and Alaran dated?" Merrill put in excitedly.  The ex-slave scowled, but it was forced.

Hawke laughed.  "Maker, I'm still not sure which one of them wore more eyeliner!"

"Don't forget the jeans!" Sebastian shouted from his area.  "Looked like they had wires for legs!"  The house filled with laughter at the comment.  Not even Fenris could keep the sneer he was desperately trying to maintain.  

That laughter silenced so quickly it was as if it had never been there when the picture on the television jarred.  An explosion on the building it was fixed on made the sound crackle.  Screams erupted as the terrified masses scrambled to get away from the coal-colored, billowing smoke.  

Then the Red Templars poured out.

They were twisted and unnatural, inhumanity snarling their crystalline-covered faces.  Gunfire--no, axes and swords--no,  _gunfire_ went off.  Bursts of magic countered the attacks.  Alaran had her people prepared well, even though Hawke knew that this was  _not_ going to plan.  

So he stood, grabbed his stave and keys lying on the coffee table, and headed out.  It was all he could do to refrain from breaking into a full sprint.  Following him was everybody in the household, including Anders.  Nobody dared to argue with the spirit-bonded mage at the moment.

_Standing on the ramparts, wind tousling his hair.  She was looking at him with understanding violet eyes and a kind smile on her face as he rambled on.  Skyhold looked beautiful from the place they were standing, and--_

Hawke hissed between his teeth. and doubled over, bracing a hand on the hood of his car while the other cupped his forehead.  At the same time he did so Anders' skin crackled blue as Justice sprang forth in his consciousness.   ** _"She awakens, and the whole world will come crumbling down,"_** the spirit proclaimed.   ** _"Whether we will go home or be torn into oblivion is up to her."_**

Sebastian crumpled to the snowy ground as Fenris took a knee, the former groaning loudly as he clutched both sides of his head while the latter made a pained noise in the back of his throat.  Isabela gasped as two glinting daggers appeared in her hands, and Merrill clasped her wrist as the connecting palm dripped liquid crimson onto the snow.  Laurel was gaping vacantly into the distance, seeing things that only she was able to view.  Tears slowly streamed down her cheeks.

Hawke then gaped at the foreign world around him, at the strange clothes he was casually wearing.  

_Lothering._

_Kirkwall._

_The Hanged Man._

_Meredith._

_Orsino._

_Apostate mage._

_Arishok._

_The Chantry._

_Champion._

"Aw, nuts," a new,  _very_ familiar voice complained.  "Not you guys, too!  Man, what  _is_ it with you bunch?  Even Alistair and Zevran just remembered like couple minutes ago."

Hawke squinted through the spots in front of his eyes at the tall Traveler standing in front of him.  Hallah Lynne was wearing a sleek, skin-tight jumpsuit that were only supposed to exist in  _Mission: Impossible_ movies.

The thought of that--at two worlds colliding--made him rub his head again.  "Hallah," he breathed with as much anger as he could.  "What in the  _Maker's name_ is going on?"

"Oh, Hawkey," Hallah grinned, gripping him with two large hands.  "It's good to see you, again."

 _"You,"_ Sebastian managed to snarl as he staggered back up to his feet, pointing a finger at the woman.  "You  _defiled_ the statue of Andraste i-in the Starkhaven Chantry when I was just a boy and you made everybody believe it was  _me!"_

Hallah threw her head back and laughed at the accusation.  "Oh, Sebastian, I'm so happy you remember that!  I mean, it's not as if I made up for it by  _saving you from assassins those three times."_

He faltered, opening and closing his mouth a few times before saying weakly, "Well... _yes._ I suppose that's true.  But still!"  Then Sebastian's extremely blue eyes widened.  He slapped both hands to the sides of his head.  "Ohhhh no.  Oh, I'm king.   _I'm King of Starkhaven."_

Hawke never liked being angry.  He just wasn't that kind of guy.  But after seeing Hallah Lynne's shit-eating, crooked smirk...

She easily spun around and put him in a headlock as he tried to tackle her, or do  _something_ that would wipe that expression off her face.  "Y-you did this," he snarled as his arms flailed to get free.  "It was you!  You caused all of this!"

"No," Hallah replied with infinite patience.  "Alaran did this to keep the Orb from destroying everything.  She sucked my conscious in here, as well as all of yours.  I just chose to stay so I could help.  Now quit being a little dick and woman up."

"What happened to Varric?" Hawke roared, struggling with all his might to get out of the Traveler's grasp.  

"I shot him because he was remembering-- _heyy_ don't try to light me on fire!  Rudeness!  Let me finish, Garrett!"  Hallah drug Hawke down to the ground, her sheer weight making it nearly impossible to squirm away.  "You big beardy baby!  I ensured that Varric's death here sent him back to the real Thedas!  He's alive.  So just cool your jets."

Relief flooded his system and Hallah released, rising back to her feet and helping him up.  Damn her.  Damn her to the Void, but she was infuriatingly helpful.

"Look, I'd love to stay, catch up, get yelled at, and be forced to explain things, but if you guys haven't  _noticed..."_ Hallah turned her emerald green eyes up to the sky.  The others followed her gaze, all words and feelings extinguishing when they saw just what was happening.  "But this construct is kind of falling apart.  And you're going to need to be near Alaran when she, euh, either gets us all outta here or..."

 ** _"Destroys us all,"_** Justice finished.  She pointed a gun-finger at him.

"Very eloquent as always, Justice."  Then Hallah clapped her hands together, green flames dancing across her skin.  "So come on, kiddos!  Let's go have some fun!"

-

"Fockin' shite that is," Sera coughed as we rounded a corner, keeping our eyes open for any more of those...those  _things._ They were human, at one point, but now they were completely composed of red lyrium.  We had to...Dorian had to  _blow one of them up_ just so we could get away.  That reacted with some chemicals stored in a nearby room, creating an explosion that threatened to bring the entire building down.

At the feel of magic, the Red Templars went nuts.  I knew they were outside, attacking  _my_ people.  I hated to say it, but because they were it meant that there would be less patrols and soldiers inside the headquarters.  We could now get to Meredith sooner and end this thing once and for all.

My hand hadn't stopped hurting.  I feared another episode of some sort, but one never came.  This was a...different...kind of pain.  One that I was strangely familiar with.

_"Closing rifts and taking names," I stated proudly once I had straightened back up from my fit of coughing.  Demon corpses were littered about us, and **the time is coming prepare prepare yourself silly little girl because you can feel the Stonework cracking and crumbling--**_

"Argh!" I cried out, clutching my left hand with the right, then growing silent in astonishment as I remembered the fragmented scene.  It was still distant and vague, and I wasn't entirely too sure if it was even _real,_  but...

_But I remembered._

Iron Bull latched onto my arm to keep me upright.  "Whoa there, Boss," he spoke lowly.  "You alright?"

I gaped at him.   _Rain drizzled down on the Storm Coast, and he told me he was an actual spy and **hurry hurry hurry.**_

"The Iron Bull," I whispered hoarsely.  

His brows drew together.  "Yeah, that's me.  Look, we haven't got much time left, so if you need to bail, we can take it from here."

I was already shaking my head.  "I have to find Solas.  I have to find him right now."

"Then I--"

The four of us were interrupted by a flesh-prickling howl.  A deformed Red Templar charged at us, red lyrium claws raised to strike us down.  Immediately I reached behind my back to grip the hilt of--

My fist closed around thin air.  

-

Leliana sunk to the ground, clutching her head in her hands.  All around her was screaming and hysteria and battle, but she knew the truth.  She knew that it was all fake.  Maker, she couldn't even  _look_ at the sky.  It was frightening; not even the Breach could compare.  Fractures of soul-sucking blackness broke the green-tinted atmosphere, terrifying Leliana and any aware enough of it to notice.  

 _Brosca's mouth was moving and he was telling her something.  His brown eyes gleamed with memories and burdens and what was he_ saying?

_"...Not what...think...Leliana...I'm...other..."_

The sudden abruptness of emerald green searing her mind made her gasp and flash her eyes back open.  

In doing so, she saw Zevran sprawled out on the ground, looking miserable and pained.  "These returning memories," he groaned, "they are most unpleasant, yes?"  He then cracked an eyelid open and slid his gaze to her.  "But where is your dear Warden in all of this?  I have never personally met Inquisitor Alaran Lavellan, yet here I am.  So even though she has never met him, I imagine that he should be here, somewhere."

"He's not."

Leliana and Zevran both looked up to see a tall Traveler standing over them, emerald green eyes too sharp to be mortal and body almost too lithe and slim to be entirely human.  Her usual cheerful expression was absent, leaving only something to be feared.

"What have you remembered," Hallah said to the spymaster, too serious and solemn to be a question.  Leliana's refusal to answer was a bad decision.

The Traveler bent down at the hips to Leliana's eye level, upper body remaining straight despite the angle it was at, neck curling almost like a snake's.  She found it hard to stare back at Hallah.  Her eyes had no end, worlds upon worlds and enough immortality to make it aware that she wasn't like the rest of them.  Hallah was an unstoppable force to be reckoned with.

"What are you talking about?" Leliana asked with the perfect amount of venom to show that she was not going to be intimidated so easily.

"Do not spit your daggers at me, child," Hallah said, her voice a panther's purr before it attacked.  "I made you forget things for a reason.  He swore to me that he would keep it a secret so it wouldn't do any damage, but I knew he would break it.  I took measures to ensure that there would be as little repercussions as possible."  Hallah inched closer, the scent of lemons she gave off anything but comforting.  She lifted Leliana's chin with a slender finger, prying into her soul and thoughts and feelings so effortlessly it could hardly be considered invasive.  "Ah.  I see.  It's not as bad as I thought."  Then Hallah stood straight once more, leaving Leliana uncontrollably shaky.  "I will deal with you later, if at all.  Perhaps it is about time for you to remember, anyways.  It may become useful, if we get out of here."  A dark brown quarterstaff appeared in one of her hands.  "Worry about what is happening right now.  The Inner Circle and any other members Alaran drug in should be grouping."  Her staff jabbed suddenly into Zevran's stomach.  "Hey, kinky bird.  Keep an eye out for everybody with substance and group them up.  Understand?"

Zevran groaned again, rubbing the spot where her staff connected.  "Hallah Lynne, as wonderful as ever I see."

The Traveler looked back up to the sky, worry creasing her full lips into a thin line.  "This is going to be new.  I honestly hate new.  Because I don't know what to expect."

"And what will you do about it?" Zevran sighed.  Hallah glanced down at him, the background of battle and a reality falling apart perfect for the stature she had at the moment.  

Leliana stared as the air shimmered momentarily around Lynne's back.  In the span of a single second wings as black as her hair and as sleek as the ones her ravens had formed.  

She had...

She had  _wings?_

Hallah Lynne's shit-eating grin returned, like it was never absent in the first place.  She pumped a fist in the air, spanning her feathery appendages.  "It's  _MIGHTY MORPHIN' TIME!"_

_-_

"Gah, get 'em out get 'em out get 'em out!" Sera whimpered, stamping her feet on the ground as I gripped onto one of her wrists with my aching palm.  Fingers on the opposite hand pulled out crystalline shards from her flesh.  A small wave of Red Templars attacked us only a minute ago.  We handled it well, but Sera took the brunt of an assault and got red lyrium splinters under her skin.

"They're not real," I muttered as I pulled.  "If they were, you would be in big,  _big_ trouble."

"The fock do you mean it's not real?" Sera snapped.  "It feels fockin' real!"

**_What is real and what isn't won't matter when everything falls apart._ **

My hand spiked with pain again.  I gritted my teeth and pulled out the final few pieces, ignoring Sera's foul-mouthed complaints.  I had to find Solas.  I  _knew_ that if I did that, everything would be right.  Everything would fall into place.  That's how it always was, with the two of us.

_Stars were above us and beneath us and he was a wolf and I was his queen and we walked--_

I cried out as the memory physically pressed against the front of my skull, like a nail going out instead of in.  My entire left hand was composed of a burning kind of numbness; so it wasn't entirely numb, I supposed, but just enough to make it feel almost detached.  In truth, the feeling was indescribable.  But it was oh so  _familiar._

"Alaran!" Dorian proclaimed, grabbing me before I collapsed by shoving his hands under my arms.  "Alaran, what's wrong?"

My body washed with nauseating heat.  I swallowed the bile in my throat and murmured, "Dorian Pavus, of House Pavus.  The library.  You...you were in the library, and you'd throw books at Solas, a-and...you resurrected so many things in the Emerald Graves there were spirits running around for weeks after..."

A loud, feral snarl interrupted my train of thought and Dorian's stunned reaction.  

_Giant, snapping jaws breaking through even dragon hide and **you will all become nothing if you fail.**_

We began moving to the source of what sounded like a skirmish, the intensity of how my heart was pounding adding to the pain blossoming in my chest.

"Solas!" I screamed, ignoring Dorian's attempts to quiet me and once again reaching behind my back for something that wasn't there.

There seemed to be a moment of utter silence, when the whole world just...stopped.  My body, as much as it hurt, was internally buzzing with too many emotions to properly acknowledge which one was which.  

Just as fast as it had happened,  _everything_ slammed back into place with forceful purpose when I heard Solas yell back, "Alaran!"

I charged into a sprint, dodging past the Red Templars that were alerted to our presence by my mate call, the tail of my coat whipping behind me.  When two shadows began charging back, a war cry tore through my throat.  I reached again behind me, a harsh smirk curving my mouth when I felt the hilt of my greatsword solidly in my grasp.  I pulled it forward, flames heating my skin and creating a foul burning odor when I cleaved through the enemies.  

The door to what was most likely Solas' cell was ajar.  I skidded to a halt in front of it, breath leaving me when I saw what was inside.

Solas was on his knees, body covered in all manner of injuries.  Meredith stood behind him, her sword positioned to plunge through his back and to his heart at a moment's notice.  She was glaring at me with unhinged fury.  Her own face was battered, armor dented and scraped.  Solas hadn't gone down without a fight.  Scattered around the room were five other Red Templars.

"Drop your weapon," Meredith commanded, tipping her chin up to show dominance of the situation.  Her eyes moved over my shoulder to the three other companions that had joined me.  I could  _feel_ their bewilderment, but was amazed at their control over not freaking out.  Well...I was amazed at  _Dorian and Sera_ more than I was Iron Bull.  

I knew the Knight-Commander wouldn't hesitate to kill the person I loved if I made any move otherwise.  But Solas was alive.  He was alive and there was hope.  So I dropped my sword, whose flames sputtered and extinguished when it no longer recognized that it was being held.

"Let him go," I demanded.  Meredith barked a cold laugh.  

"And what will you do in return?  I assure you, Alaran Lavellan, that this will not end peacefully."

"Don't you understand, Meredith?  You've  _lost._ The world sees this as a last desperate act.  You have no allies and no power.  You are a simple evil people recognize needs to be stopped."   ** _And you are not real._** "You are not feared any longer."

"Oh?  I am not feared?  Then why do I see fear in your own pretty eyes as you gaze upon your lover?  I could kill him, and you wouldn't be able to do anything about it.  All magic is dispelled here; nobody would be able to repair him.  So what shall you do?  What would the point of all this be if he dies?"

So, so much more.  

Pain was crawling up my forearm, a thousand tendrils trying to overwhelm my senses.  But I would not be swayed.

"Let him go," I repeated.  "And you get me, instead."

Solas' eyes widened as his fears of what would happen were confirmed.  Meredith pondered the offer briefly before accepting, as I knew she would. 

"Bring her forward," she instructed to her soldiers, kicking Solas' back and sending him falling forward.  He caught himself and looked back up to see me walking past.  My mind screeched for me to hold him, to feel his touch and be with him, but my feet continued to carry me until I was standing in front of Meredith.  There was hollow triumph in her mad eyes.  

I was forced to my knees, bone cracking against the concrete floor.  I didn't break my stare.  "I bet you're a fake blonde, aren't you?" I questioned airily.  It got a scowl out of her, which fueled my smirk to spread.

"Any last prayers to the Maker?  Before you're sent to the Void for your sins and impurity."

"I do have a prayer," I sighed.  My eyes closed and I slightly tipped my head back.  "One that'll bring you to tears."

"Alaran--" Dorian cried out, trying to intervene but getting punched in the face by a nearby templar.  

"It's okay, my friend," I replied evenly.  "This isn't the end."

**_But the end of this is near._ **

I cleared my throat dramatically and clasped my hands together.  If I was going out, then I was going out in the most disrespectful, irritating way ever.  

In a dark chant, I recited:

 _"Sweet mother, sweet mother  
Send your child unto me,  
_ _For the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear--"_

Sera managed to laugh as Meredith's face filled with rage.  I had to peek an eye open to see her reaction.  "How  _dare_ you--" she spat, and brought her sword back to chop off my noggin.

A blast of green shook the room.   _Power_ channeled from my palm to my chest, making me cry out and topple sideways.  Meredith had staggered, but didn't fall as her soldiers did due to bracing herself against the wall.  When the light faded, leaving a black, jagged tear in the middle of reality, I found myself staring up at...

At mother fucking Skyggen.

The Dragonborn cast her yellowed-eyed gaze to me, her face masked and tail twitching.  "And I am assuming you requested me, Little One?" she asked idly, unsheathing one of her swords attached on her hip.

No way.

Nope.

There was no way in  _hell_ that I had met the Dragonborn in...

In Thedas.

In  _Dragon Age: Inquisition._

"Yes," I whispered.  "Kill the blonde lady."

Skyggen looked to Meredith, a low purr reverberating in her chest.  The Knight-Commander brandished her sword defensively.  "Get back, demon!" she shrieked.  

"Oh, come now," Skyggen answered as she swiftly parried Meredith's strikes.  "Don't be rude.  The Divines look down on those who don't accept death unflinchingly."

"I will not be  _k--"_

Meredith never finished.  It was probably because Skyggen had driven her blade through the maniac's throat, but I couldn't definitely be for sure.

So...yeah.  The Dovahkiin assassinated Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard.

Put that in a fanfic.

"I have to say," Skyggen commented after she had easily killed off the templars that attacked her afterwards, "this is somewhat surprising.  What is this world?  I am unfamiliar with the magic.  It seems...fake.  What do--"

 _"Get outta here!"_ screeched a new voice.  I whipped my head around to see Mrs. Wilson bowl Skyggen with the brunt of her upper torso.  The Dragonborn cursed as she was jabbed back into the tear she had come from by a quarterstaff.  Hallah Lynne then quickly zipped up the seam with the same weapon.  "What the crap, Alaran?" the Traveler of Worlds demanded, spinning to me and practically frothing at the mouth.  "You brought another person from a completely different  _reality?_ This place if falling apart already!  We don't need some dragon-cat to go muffining it up even more!"

Hallah Lynne.

The immortal who gave me to Thedas.

The one who was married to Deadpool.

And the one who had wings.

Wait...I didn't remember her having wings, before.

"I hide them so people don't stare," Hallah snapped impatiently as she hoisted me back up.  I felt my body begin to buzz again, except there was more tethered to it.  There was...more...to me.  "Now come on!  Up, up, up Solas dear!  Like, right now!  We've got to get to everybody else who're--"

Reality trembled.  As I clung onto myself to keep from dissipating, Hallah Lynne stuck her tongue out like she was tasting the air.

Never mind.  She  _was_ tasting the air.  "Bad.  Icky.  Gross," she said with a grimace.  "And ultimately  _not good."_

"You're sounding like the Doctor," I grumbled as we scrambled to escape the crumbling building.

"What if I  _am_ the Doctor?" Hallah prompted slyly.

I opened my mouth to respond, but stopped when I remembered...

Holy shit.

_I had met the Eleventh Doctor._

"All coming back, now?" Hallah asked us.  "Pretty intense, dontcha think?"

"How did this even  _happen?"_ I questioned, voice cracking.

"I'll explain later, when we're not in existential peril."

Solas grabbed onto my hand as we ran, twining his fingers between mine.  I wanted to say so many things to him, to express to him just how  _terrified_ I was that something had happened to him.

But he knew what I was thinking, and he gave a reassuring smile as our running synchronized.  I was no longer barehanded; now I wore gauntlets encrusted with bloodstone work.  When I noticed that, my eyes traveled down to the rest of my body, seeing that I wore warrior armor.  My coat was no longer wool; it was made up of an indestructible material crafted by Hallah Lynne herself.

My free hand reached into one of the many pockets of my outerwear.  In them were potions and tonics and a couple grenades.  There was also something else.  

I pulled out a hand-stitched doll made from a white flour bag, who was wearing a corn blue dress and had brown yarn for hair.  Master Dennet had given it to me before we departed to fight Corypheus one final time.  Elaina and the grandchildren had made it for me.  I put it in my pocket for good luck.

 _"For what it's worth, Inquisitor,"_ he had spoke.   _"It's been an honor."_

There was my own smirk in return.   _"You make it sound like I'm not going to come back!"_

I was, though.

I was going to come back.

We all were.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's been forever since I've updated. And I always promise that the next one will be sooner. But I shan't make such statements, anymore. 
> 
> Jk, I will. I'm really hoping that my life will allow me to get the next chapter up as soon as possible! So hang in there, lovelies. 
> 
> I had fun with this chapter, especially since I got to delve into a darker side of our own Hallah Lynne. And that scene with the Dragonborn? I've been waiting to use that since, like, my very first or second chapter of this part of the series. So yeah, my time had finally come. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> I'm found creeping on Tumblr at www.tumblr.com/blog/i-dropped-the-chief


	27. Composing the Greatest Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Joker and the Thief starts playing in the background the entire time*

"And it looks like the party is here!" Hallah Lynne proclaimed exuberantly as we gathered in the parking lot.  Formerly, there had been a swarm of templars, protesters, news reporters, and everybody in between occupying it, but now it was only filled with those who had been drug here by my own Mighty and Powerful Conscious.  

"Holy shite, Ally," Sera crowed as we joined everybody present.  "How many people did you bring here?"

"Inquisitor!" Cullen called, jogging up to us.  He was still dressed in his police uniform, but had his sword at his hip instead of a pistol.  "What is going on?"  His eyes moved to Hallah, which resulted in a bright pink blush.  Sera cackled.

"Oi!  You saw her butt-naked, yeah?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Blackwall said gruffly.  He too had a sword strapped on, as well as a shield.  "But let's dwell on that later."

"Always the voice of reason, Rainy Day," I said brusquely, gazing up at the not-so-nice-looking sky.  "Solas.  Hallah.  Tell me what's going on."

The Traveler stood beside me as the others gathered.  Even those who weren't here previously like Josephine and Harding--and even Ivena and King and Queen Theirin--were now present, so that was good.  "You got into a little soul-sucking battle with Solas' Orb," Hallah explained, her quarterstaff lying horizontally on her shoulders and both hands hanging onto it.   "It proved a stalemate because you're freaking tough as nails and too smart for your own good.  You constructed this to divert its energy, but it was only temporary.  Solas?  Wanna tag-team this?"

"Not really, no," he said dryly, but continued anyways.  He was now dressed in his typical attire, leggings and footwraps and all that elven glory wrapped up into one.  "The Orb's power is...surmountable, yes, but not impossible to overcome.  If you, Alaran, are the one who intertwined your magic--"

I whirled around to disbelievingly face him.   _"What?"_

"Solas, Solas, as tactless as ever," Dorian stepped in.  He gripped the sides of my arms and levelly gazed at me.  "In some situations, magic surfaces under times of extreme duress.  Yours apparently came to life after the battle with Corypheus.  Solas and I realized that you had it in you just moments before we came here.  Believe me, I would have _pounced_ on the opportunity to teach you about necromancy the second I could if I was aware."

I looked to Hallah, eyes wide with disbelief.  "Tell me otherwise," I breathed.  She made a nonchalant face and shrugged.

"Sorry, lambie, no can do."

_"Did you know about this?"_

"Of course she did," Solas said with a tinge of bitterness.  "But bothering to inform anybody is just too great of effort for her."  

Hallah rolled her head back, groaning loudly and childishly.  "I swear on the life of Ronald McDonald, Solas, I  _will_ shove this stick up your ass and roast your pasty marshmallow skin the solar flares of the nearest star if you don't stop being such a--"

"Both of you.  Shut.  It," I snapped, steel in my voice.  Hallah rolled her eyes but adhered to my order.

"Fine, fine.  What I  _will_ say is that yes, you do have magical abilities.  When you became part of the Pattern in Thedas, you became susceptible to whatever it had planned for you.  Apparently that was a butt-ton of magic.  Go figure, right?"

"But I don't want to be a  _mage!_ That's the whole reason why I chose the warrior selection!"

"Come now, it's not that bad," Dorian said.

"As entertaining as this is to watch," a gravelly voice said that could only belong to one person, "shall we return to the dire matter at hand?"  Morrigan then looked over my shoulder with her predatory yellow eyes.  "Briala.  I am glad to see you still live."

The entire Inner Circle cringed, including myself.  I had... _totally..._ forgotten to save her manipulating ass.  Hallah gave a low whistle and chuckled.  "Acca-ackward," she muttered in a chiming tone.

"As am I," Briala replied curtly, brushing past us and joining the witch's side.  I glanced up at Hallah, directing my very desperate thoughts to her.  She glanced back down and gave an assuring wink.

"Don't worry, she won't remember a thing.  In fact, most of them won't."  In a louder voice Hallah announced,  "We can't have all this knowledge of the Inquisitor's true identity or the technology in her Earth time period in all of your sick and twisted minds--I'm looking at you, Anora."

The queen of Ferelden curled her lip at the Traveler.  I was guessing there may or may not have been bad blood between the two.  

"So I'm going to forget all the luxuries I've had the wonderful experience of indulging in?" Zevran asked aloud.  

"Sorry, my little Antivan baby, but you're especially dangerous," Hallah answered.  He sighed longingly.

"True enough.  But please, leave me with dreams of this place."

"For you, Zev?  Anything!"

A silence befell the rather large group as the world rumbled once more.  It made me feel like I was going to dissipate into nothing.  "Alaran," Solas said worriedly, placing a hand on my waist and pulling me close to him.  "Alaran, I am so sorry.  I should have known that something would happen."

I rested my head on his chest as Hallah continued to distract the crowd by talking.  "Don't be sorry, Solas.   _Ma vhenan,_ whatever happens, know that--"

"No," he said firmly, then turned me to face him.  I could die looking into those grey-blue eyes.  "You will get us back, and we will return to Skyhold in peace.  You are our Inquisitor.  And you are my queen."

"But what will happen when we get back?" I asked quietly.  Hallah had said something that made everybody angry, but she did that a lot so I imagined she could handle herself.  "Solas, I'm pretty sure I know what's going to happen if we return alive.  That Orb's power isn't just going to go quietly."  I swallowed hard before I continued.  "If what we're planning to do comes to pass, then I want you to promise that you won't try to use what will be within me, what may _always_ be within me."

He cupped my jaw tenderly, gaze soft and voice a mixture between love and mirth.  "If anything, it is I that should seek your promise that you will not end my life to secure both your safety and priorities."

"If you had left like I know you were planning to, I couldn't promise that," I confessed truthfully.  "But you stayed.  And you always will stay, right?"

"Forever."

Something poked my back.  I let go of Solas and looked around to Hallah Lynne and everybody who was depending on me to return their existence to their rightful places.  "Let's skip over the heroic montage, yeah?" she prompted with a crooked grin.  "You got a dwarf waiting for you."

I pointed a finger at her and said seriously,  _"When_ we get back, you are going to answer all the questions I have for you.  Including why you _killed Varric!_ "  I paused, then fiercely added, "But didn't really!"

She bowed a little too lithely to be normal.  "Of course,  _Inquisitor."_

Inquisitor. 

"What do we need to do, Boss?" Iron Bull asked me.  Not the omnipotent immortal just a few feet away.  Me.  

I indulged myself with a smirk on berry-colored lips.  "What we always do, Bull.  Kick ass."

-

Alaran's hand started to grow warm.  No, not warm.   _Hot._

"What's going on?" he asked Deadpool.  The fact that he was asking a supposedly fictional character just what was happening perfectly depicted the dire situation they were in.  

The mercenary examined the Mark glowing vividly on Al's palm.  "Looks like things are 'bout to get physical.  Metaphysical."

"They're coming back?  They're going to be okay, right?"

"No idea.  Probably.  Most likely.  We've gone  _over_ this, Varric!  I don't have all the answers like you think I do."

He really, really wanted Al to wake up.  Because then he wouldn't have to deal with this nug-humper anymore.

"Hey, Varric," Wade said in an unnaturally comforting voice.  "It's going to be alright.  I've seen what Al can do.  And I've seen what my wife can do.  They're going to come back.  And _when_ they come back, I'm gonna have to get the hell out of here because I kind of graffitied everybody."

-

"Channel your inner cosmic being," Hallah said in a soothing, meditative voice. 

I grumbled.  "That's a little hard to do when I've never been a cosmic being, before."

"Sure you have.  Or at least you've been to the place not even cosmic beings get to go to.  Isn't that right, Solas?"

He gave a nod, placing a hand on the small of my back.  "Yes.  I witnessed it myself."

"Is that why I get the weird, vague memories about walking on stars and metaphoric shit like that?"

"Yes."

"So it's actually  _very_ literal?"

"Yes."

"Oh.  Okay."

"Let's hurry it up a bit, shall we?" Alistair called from the cluster every major and minor character from the  _Dragon Age_ trilogy gathered in.  It was quite the sight to see.  "That sky isn't looking like it wants to give us a rays of sunshine."

"I see you've only become more wise in your years as the king of a nation," Morrigan commented loud enough for me to hear.

"Morrigan!  I didn't recognize you, with the normal clothing that actually covers you up.  Tell me, does it constrict you at all?"

"Oh dear Maker, not this again," Zevran moaned woefully.  

"Shut up!" Hallah shouted.  "You're not helping Alaran unlock her cosmic being!"

Solas and I simultaneously sighed.  

The Traveler ran a hand through the thick black hair of her Mohawk, the wings on her back adjusting as if they had a mind of their own.  I really, really wanted a pair.  I doubted I would get some, but one could wish.  "Little Lamb, I know this is freaky and kind of scary, but I have faith in you."

I snorted.  "Faith?  You probably already know the outcome."

"Actually, no.  I'm completely blind to what's going to happen.  It's really refreshing, but...I kind of want to get out of this place, too.  I spent nearly all the energy I had on me here when I froze Thedas in place during during this little _excursion,_  andwhen I sent Wade and Varric back.  What little was left I used to seal up tears in your construct to keep the Orb's power in check."  Her expression was honest and comforting.  "Besides, I can't really know the outcome of a place that doesn't technically exist.  What happens to me--what happens to everybody--is entirely up to you, it seems.  But still I have faith in you."

"Why?"

Hallah tiled her head up, taking in the cracking reality that seeped in blackness beyond comprehension.  It scared me to think what lay beyond.  "Alaran, I've seen...everything.  I know the soul of every individual in the Universe better than they do.  I've witnessed worlds pass away into shadow and ruin.  I've felt the fear of every soldier as they face down armies they know they won't live to see conquered.  Everything you can possibly imagine, I know.  And I will always know."  She then turned her gaze to the group awaiting for me to make the final move.  "I have faith in you because they do.  And they are great, great souls.  Every single one of them.  If they fully believe in you, then I do too."  Hallah's smile was too sad and too beautiful to fully understand it.  "But I will always believe in you.  Just like they do."  She nodded to Solas.  "Like he does."

I opened my mouth to respond, but found that no words could come out.  Hallah's smile turned crooked and back to normal.  Or...was the other smile her normal one?  Her true one?  

Whichever one it was, I doubted I would ever know.  So I let it be and took a breath, turning my attention to my shattering construct.  "Okay.  Okay.  I got this."

My eyes closed.  A pool of magic swirled within me, happy that its presence was finally being sensed.  So much of it had built within me since it first manifested, waiting to be used.  It felt...strange.  New and old, something to love and something to fear.  It could consume me, twist me.  It also wanted to be used properly, to do good.  It was ready to come forth, to use its skills and its power to change...everything.

It was me.

I raised a hand above me.  "Solas," I said softly.

"Yes?"  His voice was on my skin, magic in my soul.  It was his Orb, after all; I was now more intertwined with him than ever before.  It was as frightening as it was exciting.

"You should hang onto my leg and we can recreate the _Tron_ movie poster."

Beside me, Hallah barked a laugh.  

"Oh--really?" Solas groaned.  I chuckled despite the situation.

"Whatever, babe.  You made me stay up to watch it with you more than once."

My throaty laughter faded as something within me began to crack, bringing magic welling up in a barely controllable stream.  With an aching jaw, I moved it to flow into a raging current up my arm and towards the breaking reality.  But it wasn't a reality, was it?  Just a construct of my own conscious.  

It was still pretty sweet.

When my mind became too overwhelmed with clashing violets and greens, I opened my eyes back up only to see a bar of pure magic straight from the depths of my being shooting into the sky, arcing out in crackling bolts.  The power that resisted shot pain through my arm and down my shoulder, gripping onto my heart and wrenching it.  It was a force.  That was what I had always known.  It just  _was._ And when something fought to take away its state, it retaliated.  Retaliated  _hard._

"Argh!" I screamed.  "Solas!  Hallah!  What the fuck were you guys thinking when you made that stupid fingerprint ball!"

"Without it, there would be no world to save!" Hallah shouted back over the roaring of two battling energies.  "Oh, and there's something I should probably add!"

 _"WHAT!?"_ I was struggling not to get shredded into nothing; listening to Hallah was something I doubted I could entirely do.

"You've incorporated...too many...just get...back where...to go!  Whatever...don't...keep going!"

_"ARE YOU TELLING ME TO STOP?!"_

"No!  Were...even...to me?"

Solas sharply yelled something to Hallah that I didn't catch.  If she forgot to mention whatever it was at this moment, it couldn't have been  _that_ important, right?

Though the situation was described to me pretty well, there wasn't really a clear plan as to how I would act it out.  So, basically, the fate of Thedas and everybody who I had drug here rested in the talent of _improvisation._ More than half of the people I considered friends and acquaintances would highly disapprove of the tactic, but it was all I had.  It was all I freaking had.  

So I had better make it work.

My free hand clutched the wrist that was currently serving as a brutalizing conduit for my magic, which had now encompassed most of the nearly-black atmosphere.  Through sheer force I twisted the Orb's power and melded it with my own, combining it like I had last time but with one difference; instead of trying to suppress it, I manipulated it to reverse its course.  It made me painfully aware that the action was killing me, but it wasn't the first time it threatened to do so.  

And Alaran Lavellan would  _not_ go out due to some magical bowling ball.

Wait...

That might  _actually_ be a really cool way to die.

The ground beneath us began to shatter.  I thought I heard screaming, but I couldn't be for sure.  For all I knew, it might have been my own screams.  I was in an overly  _excessive_ amount of pain, so who could blame me?  

I started to pull my arm back, feeling like it was going to pull out of its socket.  I didn't have an exact explanation as to why I was doing such; it just felt right.  There had to be a new redirection before I was consumed completely.  

Just when I thought I wasn't going to be able to make it, two more hands reached in and gripped around my shrouded, burning arm.  The same hands that I held whenever I got the chance.  The same hands that held a paintbrush with finesse.  The same hands that I kissed as we lay in bed.  

They added to the effort of pulling away, but it still wasn't enough.  Soon, another pair of arms wrapped around my waist, then more on my shoulders, thighs, calves.  The ground was completely gone, now; all that remained was an unending blackness.  If I failed--if  _we_ failed, because it wasn't just me trying to move the course, anymore--that's where we would be cast.  That's where we would vanish.

The feeling in my arm had fled by the time the flow of magic and might--heh,  _Magic Might--_ Focus!--had been altered.  With the movement, I commanded both energies to swallow all the consciousnesses (holy cow was that even a  _word?)_ and protect them from the engulfing black.  It was a dangerous tactic; trying to save them through that method could still result in their demise, but it was a risk I would have to take.  As long as I kept control...as long as I  _was_ the control, I could get us out of here.  

What I needed to do first was return everybody who hadn't been immediately drawn in by me.  Their minds weren't tethered nearly as much as those who were in the original group.  The sooner I could get them out, the sooner I would be able to concentrate on the bigger problem of figuring out my next step  _afterwards._

Through a conjoined effort, I was able to steer the stream of raw power to those who were grouped a little ways away.  They didn't look to be so much as  _people,_ anymore; now all that remained were their wills and beings, their conscious states swirling and flickering, ready to be returned to their bodies.  I refused to be terrified at the notion that if I messed up they would all be killed--or worse.  Personally, I didn't want to have that on my mind if I got out and they didn't.  And also personally, I would much rather spend all of my strength and power to get them out before myself.  

With that thought, I steeled my train of thought and focus of will to embrace and clamp down on their thriving and thrumming embodiments.  If I thought about anything else, who knows where they would end up?  Alistair could wake up to find himself in Dipper's awkward and sweaty body--

No, no,  _no._

Think, Alaran.  Think of what they all were,  _who_ they all were.  Think of all the letters, all the correspondences, all the gameplay I watched over and over as I huddled in my room, escaping my own world for  _theirs._ Think.  It's what you're the best at.  Compose them, compose them into the beautiful, despairing, unique and timeless songs they were.  Compose them, memorize their individual melodies and match them with their bodies.  The right song for the right moment, for the right people.  

It was an exhausting, terrifying, and completely and utterly astounding.  I struggled to keep my own spirit from channeling towards theirs and separating into an infinite amount of pieces just so I could have the privilege of experiencing what it was like just to be as great as they were.  But I maintained myself; I had my own song to perform, my own life to live, my own soul to  _be._  But withdrawing myself at a continual rate was draining my energy fast.  Not the mana itself, no, but the exertion it took to control both my own magic and its amplification by the Orb's foci power; the true force of it compelled me to let go and give it free reign.  

Then began the second half, the part I wasn't sure I had enough strength for.  Support I was given was now the only thing keeping me up, keeping me from falling into the darkness above and below.  I supposed that was how it had always been.  I used to think that I was able to do anything on my own, and if I had to isolate myself to get things done, I would.  These people wouldn't understand everything I was going through, nor would I want to burden themselves with it.  So if I failed, it would be my own failure and nobody else's.

Yet they had stayed.  Not only that, they had entwined themselves in my life so beautifully and jaggedly and wholesomely that composing them was something I could do solely through my own volition; it didn't have anything to do with their complete and unhidden presences being so close to my own.  The amazing  _honor_ that filled me was enough to boost my perseverance and drive to continue onward.

Sera's music was jaunty and fierce, rapid steps and impish grins, a hurricane of sounds coming together to form something undoubtedly alive.  It was the sun shining in your stomach and bees buzzing in your head.

Dorian's music was suave and smooth, swaying hips and close bodies, an underlying tone of melancholy that reminded the listeners of forcefully forgotten things.  It was letting go of your past and embracing who you were in the present.

Iron Bull's music was loud and overwhelming, banging heads and pumped fists, noises that overlapped to heat the air and block out everything bad.  It was a shouting cry on your lips and restlessness in your legs.

Cassandra's music was soft and steadfast, moments alone and closed eyes, releasing the tension in chests and building up strength for what was to come.  It was grief in your heart that fueled the fire in your gaze.

Vivienne's music was entrancing and glamorous, proud smiles and thunderous applause, captivating audiences with its exquisiteness and profound audacity.  It was chandelier lights on your skin and a glass of champagne in your hand.

Blackwall's music was sad and brave, unbidden tears and unflinching stares, both of the emotions combining to bring calm and resolution for whatever it was they were to face.  It was memories you tried to hide and your shoulders squaring.

Cole's music was compassionate and protective, hands holding and clenched jaws, a staunch will to do what was needed to help no matter the cost.  It was fingers pushing hair behind your ear and tightness in your lungs.

Josephine's music was warm and elegant, feet tapping and throats humming, spicing up dull days with flavor and changing the atmosphere however it desired.  It was honey in your veins and cinnamon on your tongue.  

Leliana's music was quick and harrowing, blood pumping and shadowed smiles, giving thrill to any situation and motivation to act upon both passion and logic.  It was your legs sprinting and your mind filled with clarity.

Cullen's music was courageous and resilient, muscles straining and lips snarling, withstanding even the heaviest shield to protect those who stood behind.  It was steel in your gut and a lion's roar in your whispers.

Solas' music was aching and hopeful, heads bowing and spirits lifting, desiring for better days that could remedy what was felt but not wash it completely away.  It was your voice raising and the wind carrying your name across the land.

And my music...I heard my music.  I had to get back to Thedas just as fully as those around me.  In order to do that I had to listen to my own.

I was triumph and valor, swords raised and speech inspiring, my reach extending to all those who need a leader and a servant to guide them through the night and to the joyous dawn.  I was lightning illuminating your path and the fear in your enemies' dreams.

I was Alaran.

I was the Inquisitor.

We were the Inquisition.

Hallah Lynne's music wasn't something I needed to understand; she had the capability of getting herself back to her own body, wherever that may be.  It surely wasn't on Thedas.  I just needed to give her a way out, an entrance to the place she had originally come from.  I also doubted I could comprehend the music residing within the immortal Traveler.  It was something I wasn't too broken up about.  She had helped me, so I would help her in return.

With a  _ **SNAP**_ that nearly rent me in two and sapped an exponential amount of energy, we were overwhelmed with the exalt of freedom and relinquished of the sense of conformity we hadn't been aware we were under.  This time, I allowed myself to be pulled in, as long as I kept my own being separate from the others' and vice versa.  

The last of the construct absorbed back into my own self, back into the pounding vitality of the foci, and back into the abstract world of memories and imagination.  We were barreled through places and times while I desperately used the last of my strength to claw our way back to Thedas.  Back to our home.

Too soon did I find that it was not that simple.  Far, far, _far_ from it, in fact.

Silly me, why would I  _ever_ think such things?  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...think you guys might like the next chapter. There may or may not be miniature crossovers. Because from what we can see, I have no barrier that withholds me from writing such things. Like, thank you, everybody, for putting up with my crackpot storylines and explanations; get ready for some more.
> 
> And I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I also hope you're staying as lovely as can be.


	28. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *SHOVES CROSSOVERS DOWN YOUR THROAT WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT*

We hurtled through the ravines and recesses of my mind, breaking through walls upon walls.  I took the brunt of each hit, since I was in the lead.  It was tearing everything out of me, but if I stopped pulling and pushing simultaneously for one moment, we would all be lost.  Maybe Hallah could get us back, in time, but we wouldn't be the same.  Well,  _they_ wouldn't be the same.  My existence would be so scattered and shredded that the chance of repair...

I couldn't think about that.  Not now.  Not when--

Our beings solidified so suddenly it threw me off course.  We crashed through yet another blockade, but this time I flickered.  If I had done so only seconds ago, all would have been lost.  

Ass over tea kettle we flew, the infinite colors of blackness and void suddenly bursting with colors I had almost forgotten.  I collided with Solas, with Hallah, and with Leliana, my consciousness jarring to the point I feared I would break irreparably.  

It freaking  _hurt._

The Traveler was the first to stand, saying something that I couldn't quite process.  She hauled me up, giving me a couple good shakes to get me to focus.  "Look alive, Lavellan!"

"Good God, Hallah, what've you done now?" a new, completely foreign voice asked loudly.  My double vision turned into single vision, morphing the red-and-gold blob into a single figure.  Others behind it transitioned as well.  

Nearby, something exploded, sending a billowing cloud of smoke over the skyscrapers of New York City.  

My home.

"Not now, Tony!" Hallah shouted exasperatedly as I took in my former life.  My former love.  Except...it wasn't.  Not entirely.  

Hands grabbed my shoulders and spun me until I was staring into emerald green eyes.  "So sorry for the inconvenience, lambie.  Dimension-hopping is rather difficult, especially when you're trying to get to places that have like a  _zillion_ alternate timelines!  It's all tangled up.  I offered to sort it out and make sure there was just one, but--"

"No focking way!" Sera exclaimed disbelievingly.  "You're the focking Avengers, yeah?  With all the superhero getup!"

I turned my attention back to the group opposite of ours.  If I could shit a brick, I would have done so right then and there.  

"Odd," said who undoubtedly was the Vision.  He was staring right at me, right  _into me._ "They seem corporeal, yet they are not in possession of their actual bodies.  That takes incredible willpower to accomplish."

"That's all nice and good, but we have an actual problem to get to.  Or am I the only one seeing that?" Spider-Man nearly yelled as he perched from a lamppost.  An actual lamppost.  "Oh and hi, Hallah."

I found myself barking a laugh.  Another explosion occurred, this time closer.  We were in an actual war zone, and I had taken us here.

_How?_

"Don't think about it too hard, it'll only make you question everything," Hallah muttered to me.  "But it's fun for the readers, yeah?  Also, we need to leave."  

My head was shaking before I knew it.  "No, no I'm fading, Hallah.  I can't.  I don't even know  _how."_

"Perhaps I can assist?" a new voice questioned, proper and smooth.  I looked over the shoulder of Thor--of freaking gorgeous  _Thor--_ and saw a man in a red cape step forward.  Wait, that wasn't entirely specific because a butt ton of superheroes had red capes.   _This_ superhero was mysterious and had proper facial hair.

"Doctor Strange," Solas uttered breathlessly.  The superhero gave a nod and shared a brief smile.  Now not only was I shitting a figurative brick, but Solas was as well.  He  _idolized_ Strange, and I had been given numerous explanations as to why on several occasions.  Some of them very vocally, too.

"You possess a powerful well of magic, miss," he said to me.  "And I doubt that this was your original location you intended to travel to."  He looked to Hallah, who was having a stare-down with Captain America with a smug smirk on her face.  "What happened?"

"A little recreation of a pretend dimension," Hallah responded without breaking eye contact.  "Absorbed an ancient elven foci into her magic, channeled it into a construct that saved the lives of everybody in Thedas.  Stuff like that."

"Make it quick," commanded Steve.  "Standing here longer will only get us and others killed."

"Psh, like you superheroes ever die," Sera cackled.  "Oi, Lynny, d' they know you're married to Deadshit?"

"Let's not bring up that can of worms, ragamuffin," Tony pointedly said with a partially raised hand.  His eyes then scanned everybody behind me, realizing why they looked so familiar.  "Oh, that's great to know.  Tell me how Thedas is this time of year."  Tony wagged a metal-clad finger at Solas, who was too stunned to produce any coherent words.  "And  _you,"_ Iron Man sniffed.  "You broke my heart.  I hope you're happy."

Doctor Strange gripped both sides of my face, lifting my head up and channeling what was undoubtedly magic.  It immediately scorched my well of mana and I made a soft cry of discomfort.  "Apologies.  I will adjust."

The other three mages in the group surrounded us, intensely observing what was occurring.  "Amazing," Dorian gushed.  "The skill and power it would take to..."

"Hold up, what's happened so far?" I blurted out dumbly.  "Civil war?  Infinity gauntlet?  What uprisings?  Coulson?"

"Hush, dear," Vivienne said without her usual condescension.  "Let's see where this--"

A new rush of  _power_ flowed through me, its alien origin adapting quickly enough to not be repulsed by my own.  I didn't have enough time to gasp before my instinct kicked in and we were thrust back into the current that moved between realities.  I counted everyone present, including Hallah's own existence.  I assumed that what had just happened was also what the Traveler had been trying to tell me when I was in the midst of battling the Orb.  Lucky me.

Breaking through more walls was easier now that we had solidified; I took that as a sign we were getting closer.  We were getting closer, and I wasn't going to be leached of every single ounce of energy in my body.

That last sentence was dead wrong.

I wasn't sure how long it was before there was another complication in our journey, but when there was I felt it.  The pull was like a vortex--one that we tried to get away from, of course, except this particular vortex was stronger than I was.  I felt my own energy waver, but I held it in place only because I knew if it broke now I was done for.  We were all done for.  

The landing was a little bit softer, this time, now that we knew it was going to be an actual place.  I still stumbled, knees almost going out from under me.  Solas was there to keep me upright.  I regretted glancing up at him; the worry written all over his face was something I wished I could have ignored.  The worst part of it was that I knew it was a sound cause for concern, too.

"Alaran," Dorian panted, "this is all well and good, and I feel very tiny and minuscule after coming to terms that there are a limitless number of worlds and realities...but Maker, I want to go home."

I was barely listening to him.  All I could focus on was a red-haired man sitting on a dragon-like throne.  People clad in blacks, grays, and browns surrounded him, all of them prepared to attack us.

No.

That was  _the_ Dragon Throne.

The Wheel freaking weaves as The Wheel freaking wills.

Currently the man was looking grieved at our presences, rather than surprised.  "Hallah," Rand Al'Thor groaned.  It was with the same inflection used when a friend has done something stupid.  "No."

A wave of tainted magic swept through the room, causing my head to spin and my stomach to clench.  Solas made an outright noise of disgust.

She grinned crookedly and saluted.  "I'll be back, bro."  I was roughly grabbed by her and lifted up in the air.  "Keep going, kiddo," Hallah encouraged, and chucked me straight at the Dragon Reborn with inhuman strength.  My arms flailed wildly, but once again I felt an instinctive purpose to  _push._ Before I collided with Rand--who was staring at me with a flat expression--I shouted with the utmost lameness and shame, "Cleanse the  _Saidin--!"_

Back into the current we went.  Normally, I would have thoroughly enjoyed bouncing to and from realities I thought only existed on screens or in books, but all I wanted to do was get home.  Get home alive, to be precise.  And the more we were stopped, the more momentum we would lose.  The more momentum we would lose, the more I would have to compensate with my own energy.  That was one thing I was afraid I didn't have enough of. 

When there was another force of suction that was definitely off-course, I dug my fingernails into the swirling blackness in an attempt to resist.  I quickly found, however, that doing such only drained me of more...everything.

As I gave in by letting go and felt all of us swirl into another reality, I knew that I was dying.

We were in a house.  A familiar one that I had seen too many times to count.  In the middle of the living room was a pot over a warm flame, its contents simmering happily.  Standing over the pot and stirring the stew inside with a spoon was Skyggen.  She was dressed in a simple tunic and trousers, her ears standing upright and whiskers twitching.  Skyggen looked up, pale yellow eyes brimming with a mixture of amusement and irritation.  "Ah, Little One.  Nice to see you, again."  Her gaze shifted the same time her tufted ears laid back.  "You do not look well."

"And  _you_ are wearing the Amulet of Mara," Hallah declared jovially.  The Khajiit sneered at her, though it held far less malice than I was expecting.

"I think you should be more focused about the fact that Alaran feels thinner than a piece of rice paper.  If I shot a bolt of ice at her chest it would go right through and hit precious Josephine," Skyggen spoke, waving her wooden spoon at me.  Her white teeth then flashed, and she winked at the ambassador.  "Who is still as fine as a Sun's Height day, I see."

"Careful, Sky," Iron Bull rumbled amusingly, clapping a disgruntled Blackwall's back.  "She's got this bearded guy wrapped around her pretty little finger.  But me, on the other hand..."

Skyggen scoffed.  "Oh, please.  I can smell Harding's sweet scent all over you.  It's like a damn bakery.  Cute one, she is.  Bet she rocks your world."

"She's the only gal I know who could--"

"Enough," I breathed, the weakness of my voice bringing a sense of tension to my family. "We have to keep going."

"Strange's magic boost is waning," Hallah said somberly as Solas let me lean into him.  My eyes wanted to shut, but I was afraid if they did I wouldn't wake up again.  "Skyggen?"

Before I knew it soft hands cupped the nape of my neck, thumbs pressing against my jawline and index fingers resting in front of my ears.  "Get back safely, alright?  None of these guys can do it without you," Skyggen whispered to me.  "May the Divines watch over you on your journey,  _mal gein."_

I gave a silent nod, waiting for her mana to join with mine.  She knew how to twist it so it wouldn't automatically repel, but I still had to make an effort to allow it in.  I would have collapsed had Solas not been holding me.  And even when the world shredded back into a blackness I was quickly growing comfortable with, I felt as if I was on the brink of dropping into the emptiness.  No matter how much magic was being pumped into me through other powerful sources, it wasn't going to be enough.  Not entirely.  If my own willpower was spent, there was no way of channeling.  

But this whole time...I had never just done it for myself.  The prison, the fight with the Orb,  _this..._ never had it been for my own sake.  So if I wasn't going to make it out of here, they sure as hell were.

The moment I flickered--it was a feeling like your knees giving underway--we landed in another world.  I gripped Solas' hand as tightly as I could, because it may be the last time I would ever hold his hand again. 

"Nope.  Nope," Blackwall denied as he and the rest of us took in the new scenery.  "I've seen a lot of things, but...no.  I'm refusing to believe this."

"Ah!  I didn't expect to be here so soon!" Hallah stated, grandly placing her hands on her hips.  She breathed in and out in satisfaction.  "Just taste that fresh Minas Tirith air, a hint of an approaching dark army on the breeze."  Her crooked grin then fell.  "Oh, shit.  Oh,  _shit."_

"Traveler Lynne," a deep voice boomed from the top of a nearby staircase.  "I see you've made your timely arrival."  

It was right then that the lyrics of the song from  _Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog_ came to mind.   _And I cannot believe my eyes..._

Hallah raised her hand like a student wanting to ask a question.  "Did I by chance leave my body here?"

Gandalf the White harrumphed.   _Harrumphed._ "Master Took was kind enough to settle you on sacks of flour in a pantry cellar."

"He  _drug_ me?  Pippin?  Alone?"  Hallah shook her head, eyes lighting up.  "Nah, he had help.  Face it, my wizard, you've got a soft spot for me."

"A soft spot that is about to harden once more," Gandalf said witheringly.  His eyes then fell upon me, and suddenly the world was still.  Just my luck, meeting him when I was so close to death.  I had little strength to gush my appreciation for him, ask him a billion questions, or even say a proper "thank you" for all the good he and the books brought to my world.  All I could do was take a few steps forward and hold my hand out.  Every part of me was trembling and tenuous, ready to scatter.  But I couldn't.  Not yet.

The wizard descended the stairs, clasping my hand with his own.  A sense of peace, calm and clear, washed through me, cleansing my fears and my sadness.  "Do white shores await?" I whispered, words barely able to form.

He smiled at me, at my question, and my vision grew brighter.  "For you, my lady?  You will have it all."  Gandalf's other hand placed itself over mine, and I was filled with more than just magic.  It was...it was  _something._ I would never be able to properly describe what was given to me.  It was a higher feeling, not one given by mortals.  

Two more people came down the stairs.  One was definitely Hallah--in her real, beautifully armored body, this time--and the other was a young, almost golden-haired boy...no.  No, that was Peregrin Took.  The two of them were holding hands, like they were as thick as thieves.  "I'll see you there, Little Lamb," Hallah said to me, but there was a tightness in her voice I had never heard, before.  "This is the last stop, I promise."

I turned my head over my shoulder, looking back at my family.  They looked just was worn as I felt, but there was a glow about them I know I didn't have.  They were still whole; they would make it through.  But they didn't know how close I was to being gone.  And I didn't have the heart to tell them, now.  Anything I'd say would tip them off to there being something amiss.  So all I did--all I could do--was smile.  I smiled at those who were everything to me.  

I smiled at Solas.  Changing the world would have to wait, I supposed.

When I looked back, I gave a single nod and said, "I'm ready."

White, busy eyebrows inclined at my statement.  "My dear, you've always been ready."

When we left, this time, there was no blackness.  Only a deafening, embracing noise, a rush of colors, and the desire to burst through it all, like breaking the surface of water and gulping in air.  I could  _feel_ Thedas, feel somebody holding me in my arms, feel a dryness in my throat and a burning in my chest.  Something was entwined in my arm, lancing up and searing into my skin.  I was so close to my body, so close to everything and everyone and it would all be okay--

I flickered and almost lost the Inner Circle.  Their fear was so great it almost tore me in two.

With the last of my strength I gripped all of them tightly, relishing in their song and in their love.  This close to them, I could feel their confusion from my action.  Solas was the one to realize it first.  His protest, his attempt to hang onto me, was enough to almost make me try to get all of us through one last time.

But I couldn't.

So, with a final, single throw, I cast them all ahead of me.  The launch propelled me backwards, but I felt them break the surface, break back into reality.  They were safe.

They were safe, the world was safe, and my job was done.

The last thing I felt before I plummeted was the feel of Solas' own being grasping a tendril of my own.  It was a shadow of what had happened with our souls intertwining eons ago, but I cherished the single, eternal moment.  His fear, his despair, his desperation was so intense it almost caused for him to stay holding onto me.  And I almost let Solas remain that way.  

Almost.

I sent a single thought his way.

_Ar lath ma._

Solas was screaming, but he held even less strength than I did.  I was going to win, despite the fact that it was the last thing I wanted to do.

With a wrenching, jerking motion I split the two of us apart.  Without my weight dragging Solas down he immediately propelled out of the in-between and out of my sight.  My body was being shaken, and I heard Varric's voice.  It was panicked and pleading.  By now everybody should have awakened.  Maybe Hallah was there, too.  

They were there, and I wasn't.

And I never would be.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahaha this was supposed be funny and self-indulgent but I just made myself sad.
> 
> Not the last chapter! I promise. 
> 
> (And the second reality Al went to is in The Wheel of Time series, a very famous collection by Robert Jordan and later on by Brandon Sanderson. If you're looking for books that'll last you years, check those ones out)


	29. And the Dawn Will Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More stuff happens. Things like that, ya know.

The scar in the sky was rippling peacefully, the stars twinkled brightly, time was continuing as it should, and the world was saved. 

The first thing Solas noticed when he came to was that a gaping hole now resided inside his chest, creating a hollowness so deep it was nearly incomprehensible. For a few moments he couldn’t think straight, couldn’t clear his mind.

When he did, he wished he hadn’t.

“A…Alaran,” he choked weakly, sickening fear numbing his limbs and causing the urge to vomit. The world was muted, slowly increasing in volume. Solas wanted to shut his eyes, to go back, because he knew what awaited him when reality came crashing down.

It hurt to breathe, to think, to live. And when he heard Varric's pleading voice, he wanted his existence to cease. 

“Al, come on. Come on, dammit, wake up. Everybody else is fucking here, Al. Alaran, come on,” the dwarf cried lowly, panic encroaching on the calm he was trying to maintain.  _“Alaran, wake up.”_

Solas somehow turned his head to survey everybody else. They were all in a similar state as he was, each struggling to attune to the reality they had been away from for so long. Graffiti also covered most of their faces. 

His eyes turned to Varric and Wade Wilson. The mercenary was crouched next to the rogue, drawing a picture in the cold dirt so he could avert his eyes. Varric was holding Alaran’s limp upper body in his arms, a hand cupping her jaw and shaking her head in an attempt to bring her to. Her once porcelain skin was now gray and lifeless. Dark red blood ran out of her ears and nose. 

Somehow, Solas was able to stagger to all fours, then to both his feet. In a corpse-like state, he shambled to where his _vhenan_ lay. Varric looked desperately up in him, uncaring of the emotions spanning his face and making him look years older than he was. “Solas, what’s going on? What’s happening?”

“Hallah Lynne,” Solas gulped haltingly, “she will be here. She will fix this.”

“No, I can’t.”

He slowly turned, casting his eyes upwards at the Traveler. Grime and war streaked her face, emerald eyes filled with an eternal sorrow. “I’ve…never seen anybody go through so much strain and stress for so long. Solas, she held the _souls_ of countless people for longer than a mere instant. Not even _I_ have the courage to do that.” She gave a single shake of her head. “I can do many things, but if Alaran is to be brought back, it will not be by my doing.”

“Then whose?” Solas asked desperately.

“Yours. All of yours. But know that…ultimately, it will be her choice. Hers and hers only.” She looked to her husband, who by now had stood. “Let’s give them some space, Wade.”

The next thing Solas was aware of was Varric shifting Alaran into his own arms. Her body still held warmth, and where there was that there was hope. Through the slight blur of tears filming over his eyes, he saw that needle-thin, intricate, white tendrils crept up the left side of Alaran's neck and the entire half of her face and scalp. It worried him that if-- _when--_ she came back, she wouldn't be able to see out of the left eye.  

Still, being partially blinded was better than being gone forever.

Solas gently traced the angular jaw he had memorized a thousand times over with his thumb. "Wot're we gonna do?" Sera asked thickly, showing that she was on the verge of breaking. And she wasn't the only one. The whole Inner Circle that was present had gathered around, ready to shatter at the death of their friend, their Inquisitor. 

"She's adrift in a place none of us can understand," Dorian stated slowly, brows furrowed so deeply they were almost touching. "We need something--to  _do_ something--that would allow herself to attach to this world."

"And just what would that be?" Blackwall questioned darkly. "If she were here, she'd...know what to do."

"But she's not, my dear," Vivienne said without a hint of condescension. Her hands tightly gripped her staff to keep them from trembling. "If we do not come up with something quickly, however, she will be gone forever." 

"Like what, though?" Dorian spat anxiously, disheveling his hair by running fingers through it. "Even all of our magic combined would not bring her back!"

"Then we don't use magic," Iron Bull went on. "It's what got us all in this messed up shit-show in the first place. I think staying away from that wouldn't hurt." 

"Tethered and tightened, her grip is stronger than she realized," Cole muttered, wringing his gloved hands nervously. "She thought she was ready to let go but she was wrong." He smiled faintly through his pained expression. "Even then, she does not like to admit it."

Solas' mind began to work again. "Cole," he said as steadily as he could, "you can feel her presence?"

"Yes, but she's...faint, and I'm not who I was, anymore. I'm a different me. I'm sorry I cannot help more."

"But she's there, right?" Varric questioned anxiously. "We can bring her back!"

"There's still the question of  _how,"_ Dorian reminded.  "What are we going to do? Give her a slapping? Get Solas to kiss her? True love, right? True love! Ha!"

Sera roughly grabbed the Tevinter and spun him around to face her. "Get your shite together! She's done too much for us to just let her go while we fall apart."

Cassandra surprised them all with her simple statement. "We sing to her," she said, face firm and resolute despite the flush creeping up her neck. "It is what will bring her back."

"And how are you so sure of that, Seeker?" Solas asked a bit too bitingly. Surely something so simple couldn't be used to accomplish a feat so great.

"I..." She looked to her right, where Hallah Lynne stood a ways off. The Traveler gave her a single, understanding nod, emerald eyes shining without a smile. When Cassandra met Solas' gaze once more, her eyes were a fire. "I know it will work. Believe in me."

In a time like this, belief was hard to come by. As ridiculous as it sounded, however, Solas couldn't disregard the fact that singing  _was_ one of Alaran's favorite things to do. And if they all sang together, like that cold winter night so long ago...

It could spark something.

It was also Cassandra who began to sing.  _"Shadows fall, and hope has fled."_ Her voice was scratchy and quavering, slightly out-of-tune and less-than elegant. Still, it carried something few others could sustain in song.  _"Steel your heart, the dawn will come."_

Sera was the second to join her, the rogue's own voice surprisingly lyrical. Solas held Alaran closer to him, trying to feel her heartbeat, her essence return to her body. If this didn't work...he doubted anything would.

The song--the Inquisition's song--had formerly been tied to Andrastian faith, but had now branched beyond that. Alaran's cause... _all_ of their cause...was like the dawn itself, bringing light and love and something beautiful to a world darkened. It was a song that emulated hope, strength, perseverance. It was Alaran's song. She was the one who cried for the world to bear their blades, and they did. Not only that, but she bore hers alongside them. She was the stars they kept to, because she knew their course from walking among them.

And she was what Solas would keep to for the rest of his life.

 _"The night is long, and the path is dark,"_ Solas found himself singing, loud enough for Alaran to hear.  _"Look to the sky, for one day soon..._

_The dawn will come."_

On the finishing note, an ever-so-slight pulse of pale blue light ran up each individual, crackling scar visible on Alaran's neck and head. Solas' breath left him.

She was there. She was there, and she had heard.

While the song they had all sang in unison was brave, uplifting, and brimming with fiery hope, it was only the beginning. Alaran had caught it, yes, but it wasn't enough for her to cling to. They needed to give more.

"We can't stop singing," Solas declared quickly, snapping his head up to all of them. His heart was beating too rapidly to be considered stable, but it was something he could hardly acknowledge now. "She still needs to hear us!"

 _"Fasta vass,_ of course bringing back the illustrious Inquisitor would be something insanely preposterous like  _singing_ to her corpse," Dorian growled, but he was the first to heed Solas' instructions. The mage cleared his throat before launching into Michael Buble's  _It's a Beautiful Day._ Since the others didn't know the song as well as he, they began singing what they were familiar with. It created a cacophony that would make children cry, but it _was_ loud, and it certainly got Alaran's attention. 

Sera pumped both fists in the air and practically began screaming the lyrics to  _Fat Bottomed Girls_ by Queen. Cassandra took in a deep breath and began singing  _Believe_ by Cher, showcasing an adequate amount of embarrassment as she did so. Blackwall lowly rumbled  _Hit the Road Jack,_ tapping his hand against his thigh and his feet against the ground. Iron Bull groaned and rubbed his face in frustration before he dove straight into the chorus of  _Survivor_ by Destiny's Child. Vivienne, upon hearing everybody that was singing so far, had to haughtily laugh, but not a second after she finished she tilted her head up and superbly vocalized the opening theme song that was on every episode of  _The Office._ Cole burst into Italian opera, of course. Solas wouldn't have expected any less than that. Varric shook his head and gave a strained chuckle before reaching out and grabbing Alaran's hand; he started to sing  _Hey Jude_ immediately after doing so. Even Hallah Lynne and Wade joined in, both of them belting out the chorus of A-Ha's  _Take On Me,_ choreographing dance moves to each lyric.

Everybody was singing but Solas. His throat was too tight to get anything out; all he could do was watch as Alaran's markings pulsed more steadily and radiantly with soft blue light. When he felt a stronger heartbeat reverberate from her, he nearly began to weep. It was enough to make him swallow hard and bring her ear close to his mouth. Everybody had their own song, but he and Alaran had one that belonged entirely to themselves.

 _"Sunday sitting on your back porch_  
_And I came on with a couple of chords,_  
_And I played for you."_

The glow of the markings picked up, the pulses so frequent they could nearly be a single source of emanating light. Solas urged on, his voice too shaky and terrified and hopeful to be at its best.

 _"I'm sending postcards from my heart_  
_With love for a postmark and then,_  
_You’ll know that you make me,_  
_Feel like we’ve been caught._  
_Like kids in the school-yard again._  
_And I can’t keep it to myself._  
_Can’t spell it any better,_  
_L-O-V-E forever._  
_I hope you know that I’m,_  
_Sending a postcard,_  
_I don’t care who sees what I’ve said._  
_Or if the whole world knows what’s in my head."_

"It's working!" Hallah Lynne shouted over the roar of conflicting musics. "Hot damn, it's working! Hold on, I'm coming!" Not a second later she was kneeling beside Solas, grinning from ear-to-ear. "I think I can do something, now. She's pounding at the surface, like somebody under ice. All that we need to do is..." A hand raised up in the air. "Just..." It came down too fast to be tracked by a normal eye. "CRACK IT!"

Instead of the Traveler's hand coming down on Alaran's chest it phased through, circled by her distinctive emerald green glow.  While everybody else cut off and watched what Hallah was doing, Solas lifted his eyes to the feminine, olive-toned face and studied it. Once or twice he had caught her at a time when she was distracted enough to let herself become unguarded. On such occasions, Hallah became a beacon of power, infinite and undying. She gave an entrance, and opening to her plane of existence. If one would only extend their reach enough to grasp a portion of it, the power received would be...

No. At one point in Solas' lifetime, he would have reached out for it and try to take some for his own. But now that he was older, he knew the serious dangers with trying such a thing. Hallah had an eternity to master controlling it; Solas would only be consumed or corrupted by the Green Energy. It was primordial, one of many things that structured the Universe itself. He had heard the immortal horrors that sprang forth whenever they fused with the energy Hallah normally guarded. 

If there were to be a day she died--and take the Green Energy down with her, a part of the Universe would die with her.

Solas then found that he was content with the power he had. 

Alaran's body suddenly arched, limbs stretching taut and head craning back so severely it could have snapped her neck. Hallah was laughing, exclaiming something in her original language. The sound of the foreign words that sprang from her lips primeval beauty. In that moment, though, it was something he hardly paid attention to.

He focused on the beloved one in his arms, grasping and clawing her way back into their world. Hallah twisted her grip, which produced a shrill, piercing scream from Alaran. It should have horrified Solas that she was making such a sound, but it was a sound of  _life._

In one jerking motion Hallah withdrew her hand, the emerald glow dissipating. "She's alive!" the Traveler proclaimed manically.  _"She's alive!_ A happy ending for the fanfic after all! That last chapter was pret-ty iffy." Then, in pure joy, she bounded off to tackle her husband.

The tears Solas was holding back were too strong, now, so he let them freely flow as he watched Alaran's eyelids flutter open. One eye revealed itself to be the pure, unrelenting violet that it was. The other was nearly the same, but the left side of it had been leached of its former shade, leaving a mixture of violet and silvery glass. She coughed up the blood still left over in her throat onto Solas' armor, body wrenching as she attempted to regain control of it. The blue glow that Solas had already assumed was a physical view of her mana had faded back into the white, spidery scars they were prior. 

Before Solas could pour his heart out to her, Sera butted in and demanded, "How do we know she's not some sort of demon, eh? Somethin' freaky like that could've 'appened, ya know." She poked Alaran's cheek, the side without markings, and said stubbornly, "Say something only fockin' Ally would say."

Alaran gazed wordlessly at Sera, trying to develop a steady breath. Everybody was practically shoulder-to-shoulder as they crowded in to see if their Inquisitor really  _was_ their Inquisitor. And for all of Sera's paranoia, she had a point. Anything could have happened between their separation and her return that transformed her into something else. If not that, then altered her personality to the point where it wasn't entirely Alaran, anymore.

It was as if the Universe itself was listening to what Alaran was going to say, with how much pressure seemed to be in the atmosphere. "I..." she rasped dryly, the slight, cold breeze threatening to steal away her voice, "I think...I think  _The Blacklist_ James Spader is totally doable."

As Sera made a noise between being grossed out and completely relieved, Dorian grunted, "That's her, alright. Or at least her infatuation with older men is. No offense, Solas. You look tip-top for your age."

"Maker's balls, please tell me you heard our damned awful singing," Blackwall pleaded. "That it wasn't all for nothing."

"No, no...I heard it alright," she replied with a faint smile, one that reached her eyes and made Solas feel as if he were about to burst. "I only came back so I could sing along. Nothing else."

"Arsehole," Cole blurted innocently. He looked around at the comrades gaping back at him. "It was a joke," he explained patiently. Iron Bull and Alaran were the first to laugh, the latter doing it much more feebly. 

"It's...it's..." Alaran started to speak, chapped lips struggling to form words. 

"Please, don't talk," Varric breathed raggedly as tension released from his personage in waves. "Just rest."

"Actually, I'd like to hear more truths that only Boss could speak," Iron Bull said with an oncoming grin. "She's got enough in her."

"Well," Alaran spoke slowly, "I'm wondering why Blackwall is the only one who hasn't been vandalized." She turned her gaze up to Solas. "Dear, you have an egg drawn on your head. And Viv? You have a penis on yours. Wait, do...do I have something on my face as well?"

"Only fockin' lightning marks or wotever," Sera grumbled as she furiously scrubbed at her face, unsuccessfully trying to rid the crude  _vallaslin_ scribbled everywhere. "Cass, what 'ave I got on my face?" She then looked closely at the Seeker, realizing what was on her own lower lip. "Heheheheh, you look like an evil warlord."

"Lightning marks?" Alaran repeated partially to herself. The Inner Circle forgot that their Inquisitor had come back from the dead and were now trading remarks about what had been drawn on them. 

It was how things should be. 

"I am quite sure you will find them very...cool," Solas assured, the once strange slang word now familiar to him. It brought a wry smile to his lips.

"Yeah, well...I can feel it. Itching, kind of burning. But it's fading," Alaran replied, regaining some strength to channel it into her voice. Then she made a face. "Guess I should be glad it went upwards and not down, huh?  _That'd_ be awkward."

He snorted, unsurprised that she would say something like that. "As much as I like being held in your arms...I would much rather it happen in our soft, Orlesian bed. Also, a bath would be nice. And about twenty hours of sleep."

_"Ma nuvenin."_

"Hey-o! Don't mean to interrupt--well, actually I do, but it'll be quick," Hallah Lynne said with a crooked smirk, towering over Solas, Alaran, and Varric with the unnatural, stilted stance of hers. "It has to do with your sick sc--"

"Hallah," Alaran cut in with a tired smile. "Go home."

The Traveler paused, pretending to take the time to consider her words. Now that her Sight was back, she once again knew every single action, thought, feeling, and word that would come to pass. "Yeah, you're right. I'll be back in a couple of days." Without bending her legs, Hallah angled her back down low enough to peck Alaran's forehead with a kiss. "Get some rest, little lamb."

"I will. And Hallah?" 

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"No. Thank you."

Hallah straightened and strode back over to her husband's side. Upon seeing Deadpool, Alaran's eyes widened slightly and there was a hint of a grin...but after plummeting through multiple realities, viewing her favorite Marvel character didn't get the reaction Solas originally thought it would. 

In a flash of emerald green, the two were gone.

"I'm sure whatever she had to say held some universal importance," Alaran commented dryly. Her eyes then shifted to Varric, and this time she did grin. "I'm glad you're not dead."

"Me too," he chuckled easily. "And by the way, I'm real sick of all these dramatic, almost-dying things happening. Especially from you. If it happens again, I'll make sure you stay dead."

 _"Psh._ Yeah, yeah, I've heard the spiel many a time, you don't need to go over it again. Can we please just go home, now? And where's Lace and Morrigan?"

-

Everything had morphed into a victorious blur. Upon knowing that I lived, Josephine had taken it upon herself to throw a party. A  _party,_ of all things. It wasn't as if I had been screwed in the ass by the Universe or anything. Nah, I was spiffy as can be. I really loved the stares I was getting due to my new face mark. The same face mark I hadn't even  _seen_ yet. And apparently it had taken color out of my left eye, too? I didn't know! 

_Because I had to be nice to the nobles._

Well, it wasn't just the nobles. All of Skyhold had been invited to the great hall to celebrate the victory over Corypheus and the sealing of the Breach. Though it had only been hours for them since the sky was sealed and scarred, for me--for all of us who remembered--it was weeks, months,  _years_ ago. To think about it too long made my brain hurt. 

But hey, on the plus side, the Anchor was no longer active. All that was left was a vagina scar. 

And the power of it? Of the Orb?

Well that was all mine, now.

It was pretty scary.

Wanna know what else was scary?

The fact that I was now a mage.

Shit.

I didn't feel... _magey?_ I don't know, was I supposed to feel different? Solas said that when my mana flared up it showed on my skin. Was that meant to happen? I didn't know! Nobody knew! Except for Hallah, who I sent away because I would literally explode if I had to deal with any more ancient universe crap. I had a sinking feeling that there was much more of  _that_ to come, but I would deal with it...some other time.

The fact that I was pushing something  _off_ was truly a sign that the universe had shifted. I was changed. Andraste preserve me.

Speaking of Andraste...

"It's kind of refreshing to see an unsmiling face," I muttered as I sidled up to Leliana, who was skirting the edge of the hall's shadows. "Can I get your permission to go to bed, please? I'm asking you because Josie said no and Cullen just sputters and rubs the back of his head. Also, I think I've made my decision on endorsing you as--"

"Alaran." 

While her sharp tone was often heard, I had to stop because it was directed at  _me._ We had usually regarded each other in high esteem to never sound reprimanding. "What is it?" I questioned. Distress flitted across the spymaster's flawless skin. I frowned and took a step closer to her. "Whoa, Lel, what's happened?"

"I do not wish to speak about it," she spoke lowly, sharply. It still didn't stop me from lightly touching her arm. When she did not pull away, I kept it there. 

"What we all went through is hard, I know..."

"No. It is not that." Leliana softened her voice. "There are...other things that I am remembering." She finally lifted those nightingale eyes at me, filled with something I was all-too familiar with. They had been in my own gaze multiple times. 

I pressed a finger to her soft lips. "Let's, uh, let's talk about it tomorrow, okay? Tomorrow."

Leliana seemed to take comfort in my procrastination. "Tomorrow. Yes," she repeated. "That would be fine."

My hand dropped back down to my side. "So can I go to bed, oh future Divine Leezy-breeze?"

"And I see that your flawless sense of humor didn't get left behind."

"That it did not. Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to sneak away. Can you distract Josie?"

"Of course, Inquisitor."

While Leliana glided back into the warm, gold-and-red light of the hall, I hastily grabbed a small cloth napkin on the dining table and placed cookies and pastries in it before wrapping it up and stuffing it into one of the many pockets of my red coat. After stifling a yawn, I silently made my way to the door that ultimately led to the mattress calling my name. The only pair of eyes I cared about on my back was Solas' own; even then, I knew I would have to get him to shut up about the whole ordeal until tomorrow.

When I reached my room in a sort of half-daze, I saw that light from the approaching dawn filled the air. I stopped, unable to dodge the striking awe that came with it. 

_The dawn had come._

I wasn't sure how long I stood in the middle of my chambers, basking in the wonder and brilliance. It brought stinging tears to my eyes and left an ache in my chest. The voices of my family, of my love, singing rang in my head so clearly I almost thought I was back there, in the...In the...

Though I continued to remain as still as stone, there was a mighty  _pull_ on me. It caused me to remember and recognize that I could  _be_ the Dawn, the Twilight, the Stars, the Moon. I had the power. 

I had the power, because nothing was taken from me in the swirling gray. 

Something was given to me.

It had been my choice to come back here, but it would always be my choice to depart once more if I ever wished. I could  _feel_ it within my blood, my bones, my being, ready to come forth when I called. I wasn't exactly sure exactly what all of  _it_ was, just yet. There would soon be many hours spent pouring over the effects, limitations (or lack thereof) and consequences. And what exactly--

No. Questions were for tomorrow.

I pulled myself back inward, regaining awareness of my corporeal form. And just in time, too, for the door opened and Solas walked in. His footsteps were light and almost soundless as he came to my side. I put on my best smile and held up the lumpy napkin full of sweets. "Care to join me for a nutritious meal?" I inquired. He tilted his head slightly at me, a smile encompassing his own visage. Though I had seen that same expression a million times, it still made my heart flutter and let me know that I was loved. 

"I would be delighted."

The pastries were set in the center of my bed, awaiting their consumption as Solas and I tiredly changed out of the battle armor we still wore. Gingerly, I took out the doll made for me by Elaina Dennet and her grandchildren and placed it on the mantle before stripping the coat from my body. When I felt the soft, flowy fabric of the tunic I put on, a satisfied sigh breezed past my lips. It also made me very aware that the Inquisition's battle--and all of Thedas' battle, for that matter--had now come to an end. It was over.

But so many things were just beginning.

I finally had the courage to look at myself in the mirror as I took my hair out of the single, disheveled braid running down my scalp and swishing down my back. The scars--intricate branches, webs, tendrils, and cracks--originated from the former Mark on my palm. They covered every inch of my left fingers, hand, and arm. It narrowed when it reached my shoulder, scrawling up my neck and fanning out on the side of my face and scalp. And though I could still see perfectly fine out of the left eye, it too had been affected. They weren't exactly _scars,_ though; I didn't know how to explain it, precisely, but they didn't rise from the surface of my skin or have the same type of texture scars usually did. 

And just what would I do? Worry about it tomorrow! 

Solas and I were silent as we filled our bellies with treats, our fingers sticky and coated with five different kinds of sugary substances. I suspected this would be the first of many moments where we would take a break from it all and indulge in foods that give us toothaches. It was something I could get used to.

Everybody had mostly gotten the sharpie doodles off of them by the time we reached Skyhold to celebrate. In the night and the great hall, one would have to stare really hard to see a faint drawing of a fried egg on the top of Solas' head. In this wondrous morning light, however, it shone quite vividly. I had to smirk at it, too tired to chuckle. 

"Alaran?" 

"Hm?"

"What did you see, when you were the only one left behind?"

I shrugged my shoulders as I sucked off frosting from my thumb. "Nothing, really. Or at least from what I can remember."

He stared at me levelly, catching my lie like a fly in a spider's web. "Ah."

Weary guilt bubbled up. I sighed and positioned myself so my head was on his lap. "Solas, we have the rest of our lives to discuss what happened. But just for right now, can we simply enjoy the fact that we made it through?"

"But what about--"

_"Neh."_

"But--"

_" **Neh."**_

Solas stifled a sigh of his own and let the battle go. "Very well. I understand." He popped the last of a fruit tart in his mouth while I closed my eyes, humming low in my throat. Without concentrating too hard, I could feel the Orb's power nestled within my being, connected and interwoven like another vital organ. If there was one question that didn't need answering, it was that I was now a foci. A living, breathing, feeling tool that could channel copious amounts of magic. But whether or not I was the only one permitted to use it--use  _myself--_ was unclear. Fact of the matter is: I was still the sole person who could control me.

Soon I found myself entangled in Solas' arms, unable to be close enough to him. "I cannot fathom how I am worthy of you," he whispered, our noses touching and toes curling.

"Even though I think I still have dried dragon blood and a various assortment of grime on me?" I prompted.

"Yes."

I reached for Solas' hand and twined mine own fingers between his. Love was swelling in my chest and making my legs feel funny. "And I am so,  _so_ grateful that I have you at my side. That I can be at yours." My voice dropped to just above a whisper, and I found myself talking despite having no intention to do so prior. "When I was there, I...there was a choice. There's always a choice in matters like that. And I was going to leave." My eyes cast themselves down to his chest. "It shamed me that I realized I was still hanging on, that for all of my talk of being unafraid of death, I still couldn't let go. And...and even when everybody was singing I was still trying to just  _push it all away,_ because in my mind that was how it was supposed to be." His grip tightened around my hand. "But then there you were, not letting go of me either." I lifted my gaze back to Solas, who was looking at me with such indecipherable emotion my heart almost collapsed. "So know,  _emma lath,_ that for all the purpose, people, and passion that bind me to this world, I came back because you were waiting for me to return." I forced myself to laugh despite the hot tears leaking disdainfully from my eyes. "Love, am I right? Who knew it could ever be so powerful?"

As kisses were showered on my forehead, eyelids, nose, lips, and cheeks, I couldn't stop from crying. It started off as a silent stream, but steadily grew into a roaring river. I didn't know  _why_ I was even crying, only that I was crying  _a lot._ I wasn't sad, I wasn't frustrated or frightened...I was truly, wholeheartedly  _happy._ Things like this weren't supposed to end as good as they did; I was supposed to die, or Solas, or just freaking  **somebody.** There were supposed to be ruins from battle, the stench of war, the bittersweet victory. But there wasn't. Why should I be shedding tears over such a great, momentous triumph? 

Or maybe I just needed a good cry. In the two years I had spent in Thedas, I had cried...three times? Four? Five at the most. And they were usually met with a stiff upper lip. Never had I wept because something great and amazing had occurred.

But I guessed it didn't matter now. At some point in the midst of my torrent of sobs, I plummeted into a blank, dreamless sleep. Usually my mind swam with all sorts of questions, calculations, and observations from the day, but just this once...

Just this once, questions would be for tomorrow.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a couple of more chapters in this series! I can hardly believe it! And none of you should be surprised that the magical solution in this fanfic was some singing. 
> 
> As you can see from the major gap between this chapter and the last, life for me is a little bit...busy. I'm still sorry for the delay. I hope you guys are staying lovely and that life is treating you well. <3 <3


	30. Sippin Starbucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al reveals her plans for the Inquisition.

Solas was still sleeping when I awoke. From the gray, dim light washing into the slightly chilly room, I could assume that it was early morning. I had slept a full day and night without pause. 

And what did that result in?

A tremendous strain on my bladder.

Reluctantly getting out from under the thick covers, I grabbed my robe and tied it around my waist before sleepily shuffling to the bathroom. People in Skyhold still called the toilet the "chamber pot," but it had working pipes and everything that flushed waste out into a specified area that wouldn't cause anyone in a large radius harm. All we had to do was manually pour the large bucket of water sitting next to the toilet into the circular hole. 

There was always a bit of a draft, too. 

After I had done my business and cleaned my hands, I went over to the communication crystal Dorian had fashioned and Dagna had replicated for those of us who had a tub and needed water to be sent up. I felt horrible making the servants lug buckets up to the very top floor where my room was located; it would probably a side task I would delegate to Dagna that I would have look into it for me. She was better at those kinds of things, anyways, and especially if she remembered what my world's plumbing was like. 

As I held the crystal in my hand, however, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. The servants had been doing just as much work as we had, and they deserved a break, too. With a sigh, I set it back down and moved to head out and get dressed.

Then I stopped. My head slowly turned over my shoulder to stare at the deep, copper-colored tub just calling my name. In an even slower manner, my gaze dropped down to my marred hand. Manifesting water was pretty much impossible for a mage here; something about its structure was too difficult to conjure.

At the height of arrogance, I told myself:  _if I can drag souls from one dimension to another, consume the power of a foci,_ return  _from the place I had drifted off in...I can make myself a damn bath._

Bare heels spun on the frigid stone floor. I pushed up the sleeves of my robe--which only fell back down because it was composed of a loose material--and  _willed_ water to be. I even cast both hands out over the tub's surface area.

For a few moments, nothing happened. All I felt were my abs crunching together and pressure behind my eyes from concentrating them too hard. Oh, and my butt cheeks really clenched. It was...it was...

Hopeless. I couldn't--

Something rushed through my entire system, tickling the connection I had to the Fade and drawing on the foci's power simultaneously. It created a combustion of hot power within me, so hot I felt as if my insides would liquefy. That same heat pulsated visibly through the riddles of marks on the left side of my body, orange and blue and something else entirely. 

"Holy shit," I whispered as a few drops of water wicked out of nowhere, just above the bathtub. "Holy shit." Magic. I was making magic. 

With more of a  _bend_ rather than a  _push,_ I willed more water to come forth at a steadier, heavier pace. It was astounding, impossible, something that shouldn't be happening.

Yet it was. And not only was the water there, but it was hot, too. Just at the temperature I wanted it to be. And I had so  _much_ magic within me that filling a tub full with gallons of water did little to exert my energy.

When the bath was filled to my content and sprinkled with lavender, I stripped of my clothes and dipped in, sighing in relief and pleasure. In the past, I had always admonished the "easy" route mages always took when it came to simple, everyday tasks that could be done just as easily  _without_ magic. For example, Solas would bring about a strand of mana to flip the pages of his book for him, Dorian would heat his bedroll when we were camping with a rune, and Vivienne would keep her makeup looking pristine by using a spell. They were all very frivolous, but now that  _I_ could be placed among them as well, I may just get used to it. 

Heck, I could  _redefine_ just what it meant to possess magic from a completely factual point-of-view. To even think about the social and political impact I would now have...

Yet another thing I would have to be concerned about. I had a sinking premonition that the threat Corypheus posed, the threat that the  _Orb_ posed, was just the beginning of what we--Thedas--had to face. And because I was so lucky, I got to be at the head of it all. 

The world was going to get a whole lot different from here on out. 

Despite my unwillingness to get out of the tub, I heaved myself up and wicked away the water off my body and hair with a single brush of my fingers and a partially focused will. After that I braided the strip of white hair running down my scalp while walking back out into the chilly bedroom chambers to get clothes. The battle uniform that was the embodiment of the Inquisition's power lay strewn across the floor in a messy heap. The only thing I had bothered to hang up was the red leather coat. 

The outfit I chose to wear was simple and to-the-point; a silver, long sleeved tunic, a forest-green vest thrown on top of it, and black trousers with a matching back sash tied across the waist. The boots I pulled on were formal and polished, shining a glossy black and touching the bottom of my kneecaps. Makeup was minimal, with hues of kohl lining the outer corners of my eyes and disguising the silver of my eyelashes. When I stepped back and looked at myself in the mirror, I feared that I would see somebody else entirely. That I would be  _seen_ as somebody else entirely. Not Alaran. Not Ally. Not Al. 

Then I made a face by tucking my chin back against my neck and creating folds of skin underneath, throwing in a grimace and slanting my eyes. It was so dumb that it made me snort. As long as I thought being childish was fun, I was still me. As long as I took pride in seeing my violin case propped up next to my lute with a backdrop of books on a shelf, I was still me. And as long as I swelled with love at the sight of the sleeping elf in our bed, I was still me. 

Before heading down to the War Room, where everybody would probably shuffle in to hash out all that happened, I silently walked over to Solas and pressed a kiss against the temple of his head. "Nerd," I whispered fondly. My back straightened once more and I strode out of the room, sensing the difference in the very air that shifted around me. 

Skyhold in its entirety was recovering from the battle and the party held afterwards. Elegant tablecloths were still blanketing the tables in the hall, goblets and mugs still rested in odd places, and food for breakfast hadn't been sent out, yet. It was something that would make Josephine pale, but I hardly gave it a second thought. In fact, I even grabbed myself a cold cupcake still sitting out on one of the pastry platters. It was a yellow cake mix with chocolate frosting dolloped on top, and dry enough that it sent a trail of crumbs spilling down my chest and into the crevice between tunic and vest. Such an occurrence was one of the many things the world would never know happened to the Inquisitor. I wasn't too bummed about it. Varric got plenty of embarrassing things down, I'm sure.

I pushed past the two sets of doors that led into Josephine's office area. The gilded, high-backed chair was missing Antiva's best, and the fireplace was cold and vacant. I took the time to make a detour and grab one of her empty parchment papers to write a quick thank-you note for the party, along with a doodle of a cupcake with a bite taken out of it. And for good measure I folded the empty cupcake wrapper on top of the letter. 

When I passed through the next door I was met with  _very_ cold morning air. It was all due to the gaping wall on the side of the fortress. I had vehemently fought that it shouldn't be repaired and ultimately won, much to the chagrin of the ambassador, the amusement of the spymaster, and the indifference of the commander. It revealed the breathtaking view of the Frostbacks that either calmed the heart before a tenuous meeting or released weight in the shoulders after making a difficult decision. Sure, a few times it was like walking in a thunderstorm or a blizzard in the hall due to foul weather. And sure, sometimes I took delight in hearing Cullen swearing whenever a bird flew in and wouldn't fly back out. But as long as I was the Inquisitor and this was the Inquisition, the hole in the wall would remain.

It was little surprise when I saw Hallah Lynne propped up in a chair with her feet on the war table, hair a thick black mess. The Traveler wore wayfarer's sunglasses and a white t-shirt with a black sports bra underneath. Geometric, neon patterns covered her exercise leggings, and scuffed up running shoes were dangerously close to one of Leliana's table markers stabbed into the Western Approach area. Her lips were pursed against a green straw that dipped into a Starbuck's drink. Wordlessly, she held up her other hand to offer me a frappuccino. And wordlessly I took it. 

"So," Hallah eventually said while I sat on the table and drank, "wanna talk about what you saw?"

"Not really," I muttered, crunching on a chunk of unblended ice and looking down at the misspelling of my name on the cup.  _Uhleren._ It was close enough.

"If you don't speak about it now, you're never going to."

"That's the plan, jack."

"It's not every day that somebody gets to see their own gravestone."

My teeth bit down on the straw. I knew Hallah was staring right at me, even with her eyes shielded by the sunglasses. "Don't," I spoke quietly. "That body in the ground no longer belongs to me. It shouldn't make a difference. I don't even know  _why_ I was sent there."

"Yes, you do," was the response. "You do, Alaran."

"And it looks like I'm not the only one," I said back. "So please, illuminate the facts, great and omnipotent Traveler."

But she only shrugged and sucked on her straw once more. "It doesn't need to be said out loud for you to know its truth. And I doubt you want to talk about what else you saw."

The doubt was correct.

A short silence ensued before I looked down at my left hand and asked, "What do these marks signify?"

"That you are a beacon."

"A beacon of what?"

"Anything you want it to be."

"Hallah," I said flatly. "Be straight with me for once in your damn life."

With a sigh, she said, "It's more than a way to transparently see magic flow through you. It's more than a symbol that the foci now rests within your being. It's an imprint of what was given to you, back there on the other side of the pasture. For just as much as you touched the Universe with the tips of your fingers, so did it to you. That feeling you felt yesterday morning when you were standing in your room? Yeah, that was good ol' Universe talking to ya." Hallah's crooked smirk dangled on one side of her face. "Welcome to the club. We have meetings once every five hundred thousand years. I mean, if we remember to stay linear. Luckily for you, the concept of time will still make sense. The more immortal you become, the harder that gets." The smirk slipped and dropped. "That's one of my greatest fears, Alaran. That I'll lose my understanding of time and its importance to those who don't bear the burden of endlessness." She twisted the simple wedding band on her finger before continuing to speak. "You've been given the gift of Sight, to a small degree. You'll find that before you make a decision, you'll get a sense as to whether or not it's right or wrong. Not enough to know  _why,_ but...still. I'm sorry. I hadn't expected you to survive, so I thought that being Marked would still have no effect. I was mistaken."

"And how often are you mistaken about the strength and will of others?" I prompted just above a whisper.

"Often enough that I'm reminded of the difference between immortality and godhood," Hallah replied, tilting her head back and pushing the sunglasses up. "But I guess I'm your mentor, now. Somebody needs to be here to help you along Well, help you along _more_."

I felt petty asking what I did next, but not enough to refrain. "Hallah, I'm barely twenty-one years old. Why me? Why do I have...just  _why?_ I've never once wondered if I could handle all of my responsibilities, my duty, my  _destiny--_ whatever the hell that is--but to add this on top of everything else? It's all a crock of shit, Hallah. It's a crock of shit, and I'm afraid. Why the fuck would the Universe want me to be  _afraid_ with all of it's so-called power it's bestowed upon me? Haven't I been it's charge for long enough? When will I be able to rest? When will I not be tempted by letting myself completely  _dissipate_ into everything and nothing so I can be a part of that everything and nothing?"

The words that were coming out of my mouth wouldn't have made sense to any normal person, but to Hallah Lynne they did. "Alaran, you are here, and this is your everything and nothing." Hallah finished up her drink, her demeanor casual but voice eternal and firm. "You have big plans, little lamb. And the Universe has taken notice. It will not be a light burden, but you'll find that it's a blessing." She pushed her sunglasses up to peer at me with relentless emerald eyes. "Maybe not now. But someday. Yeah. Someday." 

I continued to sip on my drink, wallowing in a degree of self-pity and letting my mind run loose. "Hallah," I muttered after a minute or so, "Did you seriously throw me at the Dragon Reborn?"

Her laugh was so sudden and rich that it made me laugh as well. "Did you see the look on his face?" 

"No; I was too busy trying not to die. By the way, did you tell Skyggen that I was alive and well?"

"Uh, no, not yet. For some reason, the Divines got super pissed when we came through. It's as if they think it's entirely  _my_ fault, when I really had no control over anything. They should be pissed at  _you."_

"And are they?"

"No. They kind of want to meet you."

I laughed again. "Well you should try to tell her, at some point."

"Ah, you could probably tell her yourself, if you wanted. The magic raging within you can be used to open up other dimensions." Hallah paused. "Oh, yeah, that reminds me of something I need to say. But it can wait until everybody is here. Much more dramatic that way."

"Wow. Thanks."

She switched out her empty Starbucks drink for her ukulele, the same one that she was playing when I met her after sealing the Breach the first time. It looked extra tiny for a woman with such long limbs and fingers, but she strummed away without a second glance. I had a...a feeling (that was the best term I could use to explain the twinge in my body I suddenly got) that people would start making their way to the room to figure out what the hell had happened and where we go from here. I finished off my own drink and set it on the table before standing upright and examining the map. My finger trailed up past the intricate, metal markers that signified all the completed missions we had brought about through these past two years. It all seemed like decades ago. 

The right index finger kept moving until it was down by the Frozen Seas. I paused momentarily before letting it slide past the corner of the map and onto the surface of the table, mind going back to what I saw when I was in Nowhere and Everywhere. Then it reached up to the Amaranthine Ocean. After that it was above the Boeric and between Par Vollen and Seheron. Glimpses of sights, memories, and smells dashed across my memories.

Hm.

Leliana was the first to come in. She was garbed in her usual attire, but her hood had been pulled down. She paused at the sight of Hallah, who was nonchalantly playing soft, ambient chords that made me think I was in an episode of  _Steven Universe._ "Spymaster," I acknowledged before turning my attention back to the map. "Though both you and I know that title won't be used much longer, in your case."

"No," she uttered before taking a step towards me. "Though we have something...particular to discuss, aside from who will be the next Divine."

"Oh, yeah, you looked pretty shook up about it the night we all got back," I said, brows furrowing as a finger pressed into the edge of the table below the Arbor Wilds. "What's up?"

"It is in regards to the Warden. Warden-Commander Brosca."

I lifted my gaze to Leliana to find her eyes still locked on Hallah. The Traveler was staring right back, trying to overwhelm the adviser with her emerald Sight. "Hallah, stop," I commanded. "What's this all about?"

Hallah struck an off-pitch chord. "I told ya to forget, Leliana dear. This is going to create all sorts of problems."

"There will most certainly  _be_ a problem if I don't find out what's going on," I said sharply, feeling my body bring itself up to full height and transitioning into the Inquisitor. "Sister Nightingale, you may speak. Ignore Mistress Lynne. If she truly wished to do something, she'd have done so by now."

Leliana reluctantly met my own discolored eyes, glancing briefly at the markings on my face before speaking. "Varryn Brosca, Inquisitor, is not from Thedas."

Several moments of silence ensued. When I responded, my voice was the recession of water on a beach before a tsunami crashed into the land. "Then where does he originate from, spymaster?"

For once, it was her who seemed to be on the fearful end. "I...cannot pronounce the name of..."

"Wyoming, USA," Hallah interrupted with a sigh. "And you had better squelch that raging mana inside you, little lamb. Wouldn't want Skyhold to evaporate into nothing because you got a little pissy that you're not the only one from Earth here."

"What have you done," I breathed. The Traveler raised her own razor-black eyebrow at me. 

"What have  _I_ done? I did nothing but make sure Thedas wasn't in ash and ruin before you arrived. And before you get your scars in a twist, let me clear a few things up." Her emerald eyes glowed enthusiastically. "Let me clear it up in a  _song!"_

"No."

"Aw. Okay." She stood and stretched, her shirt lifting up to reveal a toned stomach. After running fingers through her mass of unkempt hair, Hallah began to explain. "Connor McPherson was chosen to be the Hero of Ferelden, yes."

My senses buzzed, but not due to anger.

I  _knew_ that name.

Where the freak did I know it?

"Unlike in your situation, there was only one other person who knew of his identity." She gestured to Leliana, whose face was pale and lips pursed. "But if I had allowed the sister over here to retain that rather important piece of information, she would have steered you off into a course that completely redirected the purpose of the Inquisition. And she would have told Varryn about the powerful connection between you two, causing for him to leave his mission and return to Skyhold. It--"

"Connor McPherson!" I blurted aloud, a lightbulb switching on. "The former National FFA Vice President! The one who died in that freak accident and was covered on Good Morning America..." I trailed off, sneering slightly at Hallah's crooked smirk. "I knew I had heard about him from somewhere. Anyways. Go on." 

"Right. I'm glad I did block out his identity from Leliana's mind; had she remembered who he was, the connection may have been strong enough to haul his conscience into the Orb's construct. It would have caused a shitstorm of Sharknado proportions."

"But why wasn't he pulled in to it all in the first place?" I followed up. "I've never met Zevran or Isabela or Merrill or Sandal Feddic, yet there they all were. Why was it different for the Warden?"

"His distance is what saved him, ultimately. Your power reached all across Thedas, Alaran. But just Thedas."

I glanced at the areas where my finger had been trailing. "Then what happened to the archdemon? If the Warden is still alive and Morrigan has no baby and Riordan went splat on the ground and Alistair is king then...what?"

"Oh, I never told you, did I?"

"The Traveler consumed the Old God," a throaty voice cut in. Attention was turned to the Witch of the Wilds who now stood before us. 

"Morrigan! I thought you had left," I said. She strode further in as I continued on. "How're you doing with being subject to the will of Mythal? What has the  _Vir Abelasan_ said about me? Any juicy gossip?"

"Somebody's brought mamma lunch," Hallah crowed. Morrigan glared at her, at all of us. 

"You knew all along, yet you said nothing."

"Uh, yeah, I'm pretty sure that fact about myself has been reiterated about a million and one times," Hallah said in an obvious tone. "Now can you let me have a look at that essence? The Starbucks was nice, but not very filling."

"Wait, let's backtrack, here," I said, holding up a hand for everybody to pause. "Hallah, you  _ate_ the Old God?"

"Of course! Slurped that sucker right up! I wasn't about to have Varryn dying on me, and I certainly wasn't about to let Morrigan's poor would-be child have to go through that nasty stuff with Flemeth." Hallah's face darkened. "What a fucking disgrace, that woman. And now that Solas doesn't have to...somebody will have to take care of that vengeful bitch."

I was somewhat taken aback at Hallah's opinion of Flemeth-and-Mythal. "But didn't you...didn't you help her and Solas way back when?"

"That was then. This is now. I would not see such a corruption of justice and beauty try to play their hand in this world much longer." Her eyes focused on Morrigan. "If I take the knowledge of the Well from you, you will be free of her will and not have to...sacrifice...anything when I come for her. If not, then that's that. It's your decision. I'll give you time to think about it." Then the Traveler's face was smooth and radiant, all traces of her darker, harsher self vanishing.

An awkward silence ensued. I broke it by asking hesitantly, "So...can I contact the Hero of Ferelden  _now?"_

"Oh. Yeah, sure, I don't care."

Sometimes, just sometimes, Hallah Lynne made me want to set the world on fire.

But out there was the Warden-Commander, a human who had taken on a different body in the face of death. Somebody like me.

How could I  _not_ want to meet him?

Connor McPherson was a name I had heard over the course of two weeks about a month into my chemotherapy treatment. His name was mentioned frequently on the news, as well as video clips memorializing who he was and what he meant to so many people--both young and old--all across the country. He was, if I remembered correctly, twenty-two when he died. He had been bailing hay when there was a sudden thunderstorm. A bolt of lightning struck the machine Connor was in. A fire started on one of the hay bales and slowly made its way until... _kaboom._ No more Connor McPherson. It hadn't been a pretty death.

Or maybe he hadn't experienced death, at all. I wondered how he took waking up as a casteless dwarf in Orzammar during the Fifth Blight.

I placed a hand on Leliana's shoulder. "Everything will work out," I told her with such assuredness I believed my own words. She gave a single nod and remained silent.

Once that rather tense conversation was through, everybody else seemed to find their way here. Josephine, Cassandra, Blackwall, Dorian, Sera, Vivienne, Cole, Varric, Iron Bull, Cullen, Solas, Dagna, Harding, Hawke, Anders, and Laurel. So all who remembered  _and_ were in Skyhold were here. 

I clapped my hands once together. "Alright, let's get started, shall we? If we hurry, we can be done by lunchtime."

We weren't done by lunchtime, if that wasn't obvious. But because of the hundreds of conversations that went on, I slimmed it down substantially. Some of my favorite lines that came out of the mouths of my friends were as follows:

"We need to build a fockin Taco Bell in Skyhold!" -Sera

"I don't understand. Why was  _I_ the fashion designer?" -Dorian

"So, Harding, wanna get it on later?" -Iron Bull

"I'm not sure you can handle all this." -Harding

"Aww, Varric saw himself as Alaran's wittle daddy-o." -Hawke

"Can we start up a snowboarding club?" -Anders

"Is there any way we can design pens? Dagna?" -Josephine

"Er, sure, right after I figure out how to recreate harnessing electricity." -Dagna

"Dagna, no." -Me

"Why, Iron Bull, I had no idea you could make such delicious pastries. They were absolutely delectable." -Vivienne

"I do not understand why  _I_ was constantly sick to my stomach." -Solas

"You were tied to the Orb, the Orb was tied to Alaran. Anytime she bumped that wall of the prison, it went back to you. Like a mother with morning sickness. But without the morning. And without the mother." -Hallah Lynne

"I miss Sir Bradsworth." -Laurel

"If I play the cello, then how can I dance to my own music?" -Cole

"Tis not  _mom clothes._ Tis professional and intimidating." -Morrigan

"Wait, why were you two years older in all that...stuff? Is that so you didn't feel like you were still a little girl compared to us bearded adults?" -Blackwall

"No, my favorite part of that world was  _not_ their excellent hair styling gel." -Cullen

"Hush, commander. Perhaps we will still get the book _Noodles & Nudity _due to your drastic change in hair." -Leliana

"Can you, Hawke, and the gang start an actual band and travel across Thedas? I'd invest in that." -Varric

"I did not throw twenty-two Wii controllers at the wall! That's preposterous. It was more like four." -Cassandra

"So have you gotten the chance to dabble in your newly found  _magic?"_ Dorian asked as our steady torrent of questions, comments, remarks, and lewd jokes faded into a trickle. I shrugged and tapped my finger on the outer edges of the Donarks, thinking. 

"It's fine," I answered simply. "I, uh...drew myself a bath."

"Hm. Very magical, indeed," the Tevinter said dryly. I glanced up at him and smirked. 

"Yeah. Especially when I made water come out of thin air."

Solas beamed with pride as Dorian, Vivienne, Hawke, and Anders shit bricks. "My dear, you must be careful with such things. To think of the repercussions of misuse," Vivienne chided immediately. "It's--"

"Viv. I got it. And I will always have it. I know you're not superstitious about it..."

She hid her grin by elegantly turning her head to the side and laughing lightly. "But I am a little-stitious."

"You know, the worst thing about that prison we were all in were the Dementors," I sighed sorrowfully. 

"No, worst part of all this is that now we  _know_ what she's quoting," Cullen grumbled, sounding like a sixty-year-old. 

"Ayy, don't be like that," I drawled, wagging a finger that wasn't tapping the edge of the table.

"At least the magic won't make you better at dancing, yeah," Sera snickered. "Little Miss Ally can't be good at everything."

I was about to be pulled into another tangent, but steeled my mind and looked down at the map of Thedas, sprawled out in its glory. I had saved it.  _We_ had saved it. And we would continue to do so. "Guys," I said, the shift in my voice quieting the room, "we have a few more things to discuss." I let both hands clasp behind my straight back, chin tilting up a fraction. "As you all may well know, our own Sister Nightingale will, with my endorsement, ascend to the throne of the Divine. That leaves a position open for the Inquisition's new spymaster." I glanced at Solas, faintly smiling. "One that will quickly be filled." Then I looked to everybody else once more. "All of you are so very, very brave. Without you at my side, the land that we love would have fallen into ruin and darkness. But nothing lasts forever, as we all well know. Eventually, you will depart from Skyhold." A somberness fell over the room, but my smile was lasting. "But know that where we stand today is because of you. And as such, you will always have a home at the Place Where the Sky is Held Back." I let my smile recede. 

"But as the world turns, it brings about new revelations, new challenges, new evils, and new goods." My eyes lowered down to the map I had become so familiarized with. Tiny stars dotted its land, punctures in the parchment from successes and failures. "My friends, my family...this world is about to get much, much larger. And in due time, we will need a bigger war table." I paused in order to control the urge to flutter away out the window, to lands unknown and to knowledge waiting to be attained. There was a gentle hand on my back, one that I could recognize in an instant. Solas grounded me, just as he always had. "I cannot describe what I saw when I was...neither here nor there. But it was vast, and as beautiful as it was terrifying. Some forces already know much about us, while we know little of them. With the threat of Corypheus gone, we no longer share a common cause with them.

"This is not a call for war. It is a call for secrecy, information, and perseverance. All of you have resources, and will gather more as you branch off from the Inquisition. My request is to learn more about these powers from across the sea, and I cannot do so without your aid."

"Al, you're not talking about the Executors, are you?" Varric asked, his voice only adding to the crackle of tension. 

"They are very real, Varric, and very powerful. I wish to know if the Inquisition should hold vigil for the time that will come when they make themselves known. But that is in a future many cannot see, yet. What I want to see, however, is the Inquisition becoming a symbol for equality and restoration. We will shine a light into the darkness, unafraid of what we may find."

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" Dorian questioned hesitantly.

"Yes. It is time the world knows of the Dread Wolf, who does not bear the mantle of a god. It is time the world knows of the Veil. It is time the world knows of the Titans. And, in due course, the world will know of the origination of the Qunari and humankind. All through the efforts of the Inquisition and those who wish to join in our cause." I left it out, but I also intended to find the truth about Andraste and the Maker. The Chantry was based on lies, on falsehoods of events. Where was God when there was no Devil? 

Who was the devil in this world?

And though an Omnipotent being filled with every answer possible sat in the very corner, I knew this was the next step in my life. It seemed the battle with Corypheus was minute compared to the task that lay before me.

But again, it was a task I would not have to face alone.

"There is one other matter," Hallah spoke, rising to her feet and commanding a subtler attention to what she had to say. "The display of power Alaran used created a...ripple. Those who are sensitive enough to the Universe sensed it, and if they are to cast their gazes in this direction they'll find that the Inquisitor--you, little lamb--are a prime beacon. Many will ignore it, but some won't; whether they be good or bad, power draws its victims close to it in whatever way it can. I will try my best to ensure that nothing hazardous to yourself or to the timeline of Thedas will cross through, but not even I can create an indestructible barrier. I'm giving you a warning: be prepared for those that not only come across the sea, but come across dimensions." She gave a single nod to me. I gave one in return. 

In a flash of emerald green, the Traveler was gone.

I smirked, bringing life back to the War Room. "Let's go to the tavern. Drinks are on me. And I'm betting that I can beat all your asses at Wicked Grace with one eye closed."

My words brought grins to the faces of my family. And if that couldn't ground me forever, I didn't know what could.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS. YOU GUYS I AM SO SO SORRY THAT IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO POST THIS CHAPTER. Work and school and family life has been so busy and so crazy. I hope you all can forgive me. I hope people are still reading this, with me being gone for so long! I PROMISE I LOVE ALL OF YOU I'M JUST HORRIBLE AND CAN'T GET CHAPTERS POSTED AT SPECIFIED DATES ANYMORE.
> 
> And I really hope you guys are all doing, being, and staying lovely. Because that's what you all are.
> 
> P.S. - This is the second-to-last chapter!


	31. Where Home Will Always Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The close

Solas caught me chuckling over letters as I sat at my desk. "May I ask what is amusing you so greatly?" he inquired as he came to place a tender hand on the nape of my neck. 

"Oh, just the things everybody wrote to the Inquisition who remembered their time in that almost-reality. Zevran's is particularly funny. I think Hallah erased most of it for him, but left the memory of a particular Tevinter mage in his head. Here, take a look." I handed the letter to Solas, who read it at lightning speed. We often had private competitions to see who could finish the page of a book faster when we read together. 

A snort escaped the ancient elvhen mage. "Was a picture exactly necessary?"

"I believe it was, yes," I laughed. Solas shook his head before moving away to set up the record player we had found in the Black Emporium so long ago. It typically didn't work unless a mage was there to hold the cord and pump a stream of electricity into it, but after some discussion (and experimentation) the two of us composed a rune to make it work without there being a body as a conduit. 

When I heard what record Solas had put on I stopped my work to give him a slow, deadpan stare. "Are you trying to insinuate something?" I asked as the beginning lyrics of Ray Charles'  _I've Got a Woman_ began playing. 

"Certainly not," he replied with a quirk to his lips. I sighed, stood, and did a dorky tap-tap with my feet with an accompanying hip-and-hand sway. Solas laughed, but it wasn't because of my dancing. It was because he loved me and wished to participate.

I would miss the nights we spent in the kitchen of his townhouse, cooking and listening to old music while we prepared meals for the two of us. I would miss feeling the cool hardwood floor underneath my feet as my chest pressed against Solas' and my head rested on his shoulder, rocking and gently spinning to the sounds of a melodic saxophone or trumpet from an era long past. 

The kitchen could be replaced with a bedroom chamber, however. The hardwood floors were now stone, and the music came from a record player instead of a bluetooth stereo. 

Solas and I laced our hands together, my free hand gripping his shoulder while his other warmly placed itself on my waist. We laughed as we jaunted back and forth to the song with out-of-sync footsteps that made discordant, slight slapping sounds on the floor. I let myself be spun around and dipped, an unashamed grin on my face. I could always feel comfortable grinning around Solas, just like he could be comfortable reading me poetry as we snuggled on the couch. 

When the song ended I moved to lower the volume on the record player so I could sit back down and continue my work. Solas sighed at the lack of my presence in my arms. I shrugged apologetically and took up my usual seat. "Sorry, charlie. Ya girl's gotta Inquisitor." I licked my finger and reached for a fresh sheet of parchment paper. "Okay, what should I say to the Hero of Ferelden? A.K.A. Conner McPherson. Gosh, that sounds like such an Irish dude name. Not that I have anything against the Irish, of course; men in kilts is super freaking manly."

"Focus, Alaran," Solas reminded gently. I gave a nod and dipped my elegant, Just-for-the-Inquisitor quill in the inkwell. 

"Right-o. I'll...oh, I know! I'll write in English! Wait, do you think he'd even remember how to read English? Do  _I_ remember how to write in English?" I brushed the feathered end of the quill on my cheek and pushed my lips to one side. Then I chuckled. "Duh. Of course I do."

Solas sat down to watch me write in my native alphabet.  _"Dear Mr. Hero of Ferelden,"_ I spoke aloud, my usual, half-cursive writing feeling instantly familiar.  _"My name is Alaran, but most people call me the Inquisitor. I'm assuming you know this already. Anyways, guess what? Turns out we come from the same planet!"_ Next to me there was a snort.  _"We have a mutual friend known as Hallah Lynne. She put me here in another body, just like you!_

_Write me back, if you're able to. We have a lot to discuss. Things in Thedas are about to change drastically._

_Sincerely, Alaran Lavellan  
Formerly Annabelle Hughes_

_P.S. - Leliana misses you, dude. Get your crap in the can and come back to her.  
P.P.S. - She's going to be the Divine. Hope you like your ladies in five layers of clothes."_

Solas laughed at my last sentence. I let the ink on the parchment dry and leaned over to kiss him. "Shouldn't you be up in the rookery going over stuff with said soon-to-be Divine?" I inquired playfully between smooches. "I don't know if it's right for us to have a romantic relationship in the workplace. Aren't there rules against it? Solas, are we going to have a forbidden love--"

I was silenced by more passionate kissing. 

-

Skyhold radiated joy and triumph. It made the very Veil tremble and twist because of all the emotions running rampant. Wherever I went people were grinning, laughing, joking, loving. They had faced another possibility of the world being torn apart once more and lived through it. They were more than they once were, and they embraced that change in themselves with fullness and fortitude. 

The feelings would fade, like all emotions do. But it'll embed itself into Skyhold's stones, into its foundation, reminding us of what was won. It made me want to...I don't know how to explain it. Tear my heart out and jump around because I was so happy? Explode? Yeah, explode was a good for it. I could spatter all across the walls, and the only thing that would be left was a pinkie finger. Wait, no, my big toe. Wait,  _no,_ one of my purple eyeballs. 

"I think you're the thousandth person I've seen today smiling for no reason at all," Varric said as he came up to me.

"What?" I scoffed. "No. There's definitely a reason." I folded my arms and stood grandly on the edge of Skyhold's main steps. "I just passed gas."

Varric threw his head back and laughed. I broke down and did so myself. When I no longer felt like standing, I sat down on the edge of the level part of the staircase that led up to the main hall. A year and a half ago I had stood in almost the exact same spot, accepting the mantle of the Inquisitor and standing in front of all who were the foundation of the organization. It was when my self-inflicted wound was still fresh on my right palm and I thought I was hot shit. Well...I still think I am, but I'm much more modest about it. 

The dwarf took up a seat next to my side. "So, Al," he said with a half-sigh, "what now?"

"You marry Cassandra, move back to Kirkwall with her, help rebuild the city," I said without pause, then furrowed my brows. "Oh. Right. I'm kind of a seer, now."

"So it's just that simple, huh?" Varric asked as he tried to fight off a blush crawling up his neck. I faintly smiled and gave a nod.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." I reached over and clasped his hand, giving it a squeeze. He returned the gesture. "When you d...when we all  _thought_ you had died, Cassandra was in as much pain as I. Maybe even more so, in a different way."

"She's not--"

"Yes, she is. I've watched you two suffer the ache of angsty, unrequited love for two years, now. Don't let it draw out any longer." Right on cue, I spotted Cassandra walking through the courtyard. Before Varric could stop me, I shouted, "Cassie!"

The Seeker looked up, scowling. When she spotted Varric her face turned a shade of red. I motioned for her to come join us and, after a visible huff, she started making her way to the stairs. "Your time to shine, Tethras," I said in a garbled voice as I scrambled back up to my feet.

"Wait, where're you--"

But I had already dived into the ground below, yelling, "Parkour!" before landing with a  _thump_ and rolling back to my feet. I promptly placed my hands on my hips and gave a nod to Flissa and Minaeve, who had been taking a stroll on the nice, sunny day. 

"Inquisitor," the greeted, hiding their grins. 

"Ladies," I responded, "you two are looking lovely today." My hands clasped behind my back and I started to walk away. "Send me an invite to the wedding!"

There were going to be  _lots_ of weddings after this. The sanctity of love and life here had become one of the highest priorities in Skyhold, now. Just for this little while, there was no room for loneliness in anybody's heart.

I supposed it was a good time to reflect on all my accomplishments, all of the fire I walked through that refined instead of broke me. But that would mean this story was coming to an end. I guess that  _was_ true in a sense; the Breach was sealed, Corypheus was gone, and we had all returned from the mini-reality I accidentally created. To me, though, everything was just beginning. There was so much _more_ that I now faced.

And I would meet it head-on with a smirk to my lips.

The garden was teeming with activity when I eventually found myself there. I spotted Anders and Laurel lounging in the gazebo, and I briefly wondered if he had to put an allergy spell on the former templar so she wouldn't have a sneezing fit from all of the pollen that was in the air. Hawke was playing chess with Cullen, the former making the latter laugh. The Champion would probably return to Kirkwall with Varric, soon, and meet up with Merrill to go over some feelings they never expressed to each other so long ago. Blackwall was by the far side of the courtyard wall, tentatively picking an assortment of flowers that were free to the public to grab. 

I locked onto my target and strolled amiably over, lightly giving the warrior a kick in his calf to announce my presence. "Hey, man," I said, kneeling down beside him. "What's up? Picking some flowers for your lady love?"

"I, er, Maker," Blackwall sputtered weakly before deflating. "Yes."

"No infamous trek to the steepest slopes of Skyhold today, I take it?"

He snorted softly. "Not this time. I am...going to deliver these in person." Blackwall paused and turned to look at me. "You gave Josephine and me a world where we didn't have to worry about titles or who's stationary is who's. It's not something I'm willing to give up so easily."

I smiled at Blackwall's gallant decision. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I said, "You have the Inquisition's full support, Thom. You have  _my_ support." My hand slipped and I gave him a nudge with my elbow. "And if you can believe it, people take what I support pretty seriously for some reason."

Rainier smiled back and dipped his head in gratitude. "Thank you, Alaran."

"Do you need me to be your wing-woman when you go to her? See you off?"

A laugh escaped from his chest. "No, no, I think I can manage this one on my own."

Grinning for a brief moment, I playfully gave his beard a tug and stood. "Go seal the deal, friend."

"'Course, friend."

I stood one more and departed from the gardens, but not before I plucked a sprig of lavender growing in a little bunch by the well. After bringing it close to my nose and smelling the familiar scent, I picked the stems apart and placed them throughout the braid on my scalp. It was a good day to have flowers in my hair. 

My feet carried me back into the main hall, which was aglow from all the sunlight coming in through the main door and the windows emblazoned with the Inquisition symbol. Sera was currently sneaking off to the Undercroft, a jar of honey hidden behind her back. I didn't bother to call out to her; it only brought yet another smile to my lips. After glancing up to the indoor balcony on the far end of the hall and seeing Vivienne and Dorian sharing a bottle of wine, I crossed through to the rotunda, which was currently empty of its usual resident. The last fresco panel would be completed, soon. Solas had stayed up the entire night drawing the outline while I slept soundly on the couch. I paused to let my gaze linger on the wall. It was in the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and a figure similar to mine was holding up her left hand, a bar of light shooting straight up into what would be the night sky. It was powered by crackles and vines that encircled her arm and the entire left side of her face. Behind her were twelve figures of all shapes, sizes, and races, as important to the integrity of the fresco as the woman herself. In the blend of the sky was the outline of a dragon with its wings outstretched, much like the poster I had composed for the rebellion back in the Construct. 

Hey. Hold on a second.

"This is the  _Tron_ movie poster," I whispered disbelievingly. "That  _fucker."_

Then I broke down laughing. What a sense of humor, that elf. I knew he did it on purpose because of what I had said before I got everybody out of there once and for all. It  _was_ pretty dang hilarious, even if I was only holding up one hand instead of both. Something that would last for generations would actually be right out of an eighties movie from Earth, and only a select few of us would know. Of course it had to be like that. We wouldn't be the Inner Circle if it wasn't. 

I moved up the winding staircase that led to the library. Helisma was working, as usual, so I stopped to pluck a few pieces of lavender from my hair to transfer into hers. "Inquisitor," she said monotonously, "what are you doing?" 

"Just brightening up your look," I responded. "We're going to be starting up trials for reversing Tranquility. You still up for it? Let me remind you, Helisma, that if you're uncertain we'd all understand."

Vacant eyes looked into mine. "I wish to feel again, Inquisitor. The risks are clear, but I will accept whatever feelings may come after. I trust that you and the Inquisition will do the right thing, should my newly returned emotions become too unstable and erratic. But I am a researcher, Tranquil or no. Personal reasons aside, I am doing this for the sake of knowledge."

I had to hug her. "Okay," I said into her shoulder. She didn't hug me back, but that was expected. "You got it."

When I let go, Helisma asked, "What did I get?" I shook my head and only gave a chuckle as a response. We soon departed from one another, and then I was going up the stairs to the rookery. There were a few Inquisition spies who all acknowledged my presence before going back to their work, but no sign of the Nightingale. Ah. Right. She was in the War Room with Solas, doing secret spy stuff. 

There was a moment where I contemplated jumping from the rookery, again. I hadn't done it in  _ages,_ not after some nobleman's kid saw me doing it and, seeing that since the  _Inquisitor_ could, tried it out himself. It was only due to Solas' quick reaction and placing a barrier around the child before he face-planted it on the floor of the rotunda that serious injury was avoided. Josephine nearly clawed my eyes out and made me promise not to do such a thing again. And because I didn't want to get on the ambassador's bad side, I begrudgingly obliged. 

But there wasn't anybody around  _now,_ right?

A goofy grin broke out on my face. I had given freedom to the mages, I stopped the Wardens from falling victim to the very thing they fought against, I subdued the civil war in Orlais, I prevented wars between numerous other nations during this time of strife, I defeated a twisted creature who had touched the Golden City itself, and I now had an ancient elvhen foci embedded within my being. I had the  _right_ to jump off the rookery.

None of the spies tried to stop me as I balanced both of my feet on the firm, wooden railing that separated the third floor from the plunge. I let potential energy turn kinetic, and before I knew it I was falling, and a rush of exhilaration ran through me as I got a short taste of what it felt like to fly. 

It didn't come to me until after I had landed and felt that slight ache in my feet that I realized I had  _an immense well of power._ And what did that mean?

It meant I could turn into a freaking animal at any given moment. 

"I could have been a bird all this time," I whispered to myself as I stood straight. "Holy shit.  _Holy shit."_

As if it sensed my excitement, a pulse of visible magic swept through the tracks on my skin. I turned and swiftly strode out of the rotunda, holding myself back from outright sprinting with all the will I could exert. Where was a place I could  _go_ to try and experiment? There was no way in hell I was doing this alone; at one point in my life I would have chosen to test out my potential ability on my own. Now, though, I had a family to support me.

I went to the tavern, fully knowing that I could find people who didn't have anything better to do. A wave of welcomes washed over me as soon as I entered what was technically  _my_ resting place. Apparently Andraste liked wrapping me up to the point of suffocation and carrying me with a rather poor technique to...where? This tavern?

Hey, I was good with it. "Bull! Harding! Cole! Chargers!" I called out to everybody who was sitting at one of the larger tables. Heads snapped in attention and bodies tensed, ready to go to war at a moment's notice. Ah. I had used my rather Inquisitor-like voice in excitement. "I need your assistance."

"With what, Boss?" Iron Bull followed up without a moment to waste. With a single gesture to follow me, chairs scraped against the floor and I had a small, fierce contingent flanking both of my sides.

"Where're we off to?" Harding asked as I led them out of the Herald's Rest and back into the courtyard. We made a beeline for the dungeon. 

"You are...thrumming, thrilling, thinking about soaring above the mountains and sweeping below the branches of trees," Cole extracted. It was becoming more difficult for him to speak in the way he did when he had more of a spirit's nature, but could still manage to do so when an emotion was particularly strong. 

"Right on the mark, Cole," I said, voice anchored by the knot of excitement in my chest. 

"You're not thinking about turning into one of my flying nugs, are you, Inquisitor?" Krem poked as I flung the door open to the dungeon and descended the small set of stairs two at a time.

"Close, Aclassi, close," I responded. We were hit with the frigid cold of that Frostback breeze. It intermingling with the icy underground waterfall who found its escape out the side of the mountain Skyhold was based on. The air made my nostrils and throat sting with its shivering temperatures, but I merely allowed a small flow of heat to run through my limbs and I was good to go. 

The others weren't as fortunate. "Andraste's tits, it's cold," Skinner hissed as she rubbed her arms for warmth. "There had better be a good reason you dragged us here, Inquisitor."

I didn't bother to remind her that they followed me without even  _needing_ an explanation. I was too anxious to get the party started. "I'm going to jump off that," I said, pointing to the edge of the dungeon that dropped off the side of the mountain in a sheer plummet. "And I'm going to turn into a bird and fly."

"You intend to try shapeshifting?" Dalish prompted as she leaned on her "bow." "But that takes months, if not years of mastery. You haven't been a mage for more than three days."

"Four," I corrected. "And I think I can get it, as long as I put myself into the situation."

"I don't know, Boss," Iron Bull contemplated reluctantly, "it sounds like something that could get me killed. Why don't you practice a bit before you try?"

"This  _is_ practice," I went on as I started to slowly make my way to the end of the dungeon. "It's just the fun kind."

"Nobody would like it if you died," Cole stated bluntly. "It would be a very stupid way to go."

"Nice sentiment, Cole. But I think I got it. Need I remind you of what I  _carried_ back here?" I made sure to make my question obscure enough that only Cole, Bull, and Harding understood at what I was getting at. The Qunari grumbled and rubbed his face with a hand. 

"Argh. Whatever. Do what you gotta do, Boss. Just don't expect the Chargers to clean up what's left of you down below."

"Nah, you wouldn't have to scrape me off the stone," I said as I toed the fraying blocks to check their level of stability. "I'd be swept away by the river. The fishes would be munching on my meaty bits."

"Nice," Rocky smirked as he crossed his arms. I pointed a finger at him allowed myself to grin. 

"See? Somebody supports me."

Iron Bull shook his head. "I don't know if support from Rocky exactly  _counts_ as something positive."

"Ah, don't be like that, Bull. Besides, sometimes you have to run before you walk." I shifted back to the precipice before me, exhilaration running rampant. The dragon's blood mixed with my own roared for me to jump, to fall, to be  _consumed_ with the freedom of flying.

I had to absently remind myself that my physicality remained here, and that I was still something  _whole_ even when changing to another form. It would be such a shame if I began to turn into some sort of winged creature only to let myself dissipate on the wind and become More. 

"Okay," I breathed to myself as instinct screamed for me to step back. "I got this.  _I got this."_

An intermixing cry of battle and joy poured past my lips. A second later I leaped from the solid ground and into the open Frostback air.

For a few moments, all I heard was the sound of my own blood pounding in my ears. My eyes burned from the speed I was plummeting at, and the skin on my face threatened to tear off. I imagined it looked all very majestic from a third-person point-of-view, but in first-person it...was just the opposite.

 _Change,_ I whispered in my mind, opening myself to the ocean that was my magic. I was ready, and I  _could_ do this.

Nothing happened.

That was expected. Getting what I wanted was hardly a one-time attempt. The second time around I  _commanded_ my magic to flow through my cells, muscles, bones. It had to, or else I would die and neither of us would be around to see just what it could do. 

In a rush fiercer than the suffocating wind all around me, I felt my body contract and split and merge all at once. It was painful, but not as painful as cancer. Not as painful as the Anchor. Not as painful as an arrow to the head. Not as painful as returning my soul to where it belonged. It was manageable pain, because it was pain that was about to bring unbridled  _joy._

Then my arms were wings, layered in feathers the color of snow glistening on a sunny day. I was soaring, flying,  _free._ I wanted to scream and shout so loudly the Maker would  _have_ to turn his presence to me because of the noise. 

I caught an updraft and rocketed skywards, gaining altitude by the second. "ATTA BOSS!" I heard Iron Bull bellow as he and the crowd of cheering witnesses watched me fly past the spot I had jumped from just moments ago. I didn't stop, though. I climbed higher and higher until Skyhold was sprawled beneath me in strength and majesty. The air was bitterly cold; I let another swell of magic flow through my avian form to warm the new appendages. 

Everything came as naturally as breathing. And my vision--oh, my  _vision._ If I thought an elf's eyesight was brilliant, then looking through the sight of a bird of prey was beyond comprehension.

My eyes locked onto a figure descending the mountain path below. She was cloaked in a deep burgundy material, a staff at her side to support her as she walked. I lazily circled the currents as I watched her. We would always have to remain watchful of the Witch of the Wilds, for sure, but...Morrigan was not a bad woman. She was just somebody who was the product of a harsh and unforgiving life. Perhaps...perhaps she could return here one day, and come to realize that we would accept her with only  _minor_ questioning. We were the Inquisition, after all. It was out job to inquire. 

After observing Morrigan for a short amount of time, I made my descent to Skyhold. I flew down past the stables, the tavern, the courtyard, the garden, the barracks, until I finally landed on the stone railing of my balcony. It was somewhat of a surprise when I found that the sun was beginning to dip below the mountains that guarded the fortress from those who sought to tear it down. As I hopped from the railing, I shifted back to my heavier, elfier, gravity-abiding self. 

That same self promptly collapsed when weight was put on their legs.

 _"Hrrngh,"_ I groaned as my face smacked against the stone floor. My entire body felt drained, depleted of all strength I could have possibly had.

So apparently I  _wasn't_ as all-powerful as I thought. That was good to know.

"Alaran," Solas' voice breathed fearfully. I weakly waved an arm to let him know that I was not, in fact, dead. 

"I'm good," I croaked, and peeled my skin off the floor to stare at him. My head was shaking like a baby's when it barely first gained enough strength to hold it up. "Just resting for a bit."

"What could you have possibly have done that put you in such a state?" Solas asked with a hint of frustration stirred in with relief and worry. It was hard to decipher which emotion he was going to lean toward when I told him.

"I, uh, I was a bird today."

_"Alaran."_

I rolled over onto my back and stared up at the sky I had just visited. No,  _belonged_ to. "You know, you're doing a lousy job as the spymaster,  _vhenan._ Leliana would have known that I jumped off the part of the dungeon that's completely exposed to the outside. And I turned into a  _bird._ It was...it was beyond amazing, Solas."

"You jumped--" He cut off shortly and gave a terse sigh. I smiled lazily up at him in reply, eyes half-lidded with love and exhaustion. "You had a crowd, I'm assuming? It's unlike you to attempt something so drastic by yourself."

"I will take that as a compliment, my dear," I grunted as I struggled to sit up. Solas didn't offer me any help, and instead watched with amusement at my hardship. "And yes, Iron Bull, the Chargers, Harding, and Cole were with me. They were all very supportive."

"I do not need to be the spymaster to know that's false."

"They were all very supportive  _after_ they saw that I hadn't plunged into an icy death below and swept away by the river," I promptly corrected as some strength finally started returning to my system. "But man, were you always this drained in your dog-form?"

Solas' eyes narrowed, but he took my teasing insult in stride. "After much practice, I was able to remain a wolf for days at a time. Seeing as you spent hours in a form you had never used prior, it is unsurprising that you are experiencing exhaustion..."

"Oh just say it, Solas," I sneered to hide my smile. "I'm a noob."

"You, Inquisitor? Perish the thought."

-

We were going to Val Royeaux to see Leliana off. Everybody from all reaches of Thedas were present in the city, putting aside rivalries and tensions to see the ascension of their new Divine, the embodiment of light to guide their nations to the side of the Maker. In the corners of their minds, however, they knew that the Andrastian faith would be mired in blood in the shadows of all that was righteous. It was just another one of my many regrets; had I not been so young, had I not been so afraid, maybe I could have approached Leliana that day she was planning to kill the spy who betrayed the Inquisition instead of watching from a silent distance. Perhaps then she could have seen that she didn't have to be a hardened human being in order to best perform her job. Perhaps I could have set her on a better path. 

But there was nothing that could be done about it, now. Leliana had embraced who she was with a holy passion, and I wouldn't be me if I tried to tear that away from her. 

So I watched with a proud, faint smile on my face as I saw her head bowed in serene peace, a small tremble coming to her lips as she was ordained as Divine Victoria. Then her head tipped up and she stood to her feet. The Grand Cathedral was filled with thunderous applause, and none louder than my own. 

 _"Leliana," I spoke as the mild rocking of our carriage set a lulling pace. "What we find...what I_ intend  _to find...may shake the Chantry to its very core."_

_"I am aware, Alaran," she said back, emotions indecipherable through her Orlesian accent. If her eyes were looked at, however, they provided a small window of opportunity to catch a glimpse of her inner feelings. There was resolve, truth, belief. "But I will not falter in my faith, no matter what. That time has come and gone. It shall never be so again."_

_"Good. And let me promise you that as long as the Chantry stands for the administration of peace and aide to those who are lacking it in their lives, the Inquisition will stand at its side."_

_"And if not?"_

_"The answer does not need to be said aloud for either of us to know."_

_A quick smile dashed across Nightingale's lips. It was one I had seen many times as I stood across from her at the war table. "No. It does not." She paused, eyes lowering for a brief moment before bringing themselves back up to me. "Inquisitor--Alaran. It has been an honor serving at your side. I will never forget what you have forged, and I will attempt to uphold all that I have learned watching you lead Thedas to a new era."_

_"Why, Leliana, it's only 9:42 Dragon. Technically the next Age isn't due for another fifty-eight years."_

_"An Age isn't determined by time. It is determined by the people who shake its very foundations."_

Leliana's words rang in my ears as I stood to my feet and joined her side. The roar of the audience grew to deafening levels as two of the world's most powerful leaders stood side-by-side. And, in a whisper loud enough to be heard between the two of us, I asked, "Are you sweating already?"

"It's like being wrapped up in a quilt and thrown into the Western Approach," Leliana whispered back. Had I not known how to keep my face smooth and expressionless during times when I couldn't afford to show anything else, I would have thrown my head back and laughed. The Inquisition's own uniform--a bold red with a regal gold sash--was just as stifling. It made my neck itchy and there was a considerable amount of butt sweat going on, but nobody could know that, especially when I was standing in front of nearly a thousand people alongside the Divine. That was the price of power, I supposed; no matter how much influence I had throughout Thedas, for the love of the Maker I could  _not_ pull out the raging wedgie I had due to the underwear Vivienne always insisted I wore whenever I had to do something important. 

I focused my mind on the familiar faces I spotted throughout the hall. There was the Inner Circle, all grouped up in a special section. There was Gaspard and the strings that pulled on him by Briala, who was almost hidden by the swell of the standing crowd. There was King Alistair and Queen Anora, whose belly was already firm and round underneath her beautifully tailored dress. So life was still attainable, even for a Warden. I was happy for the two. There was Arl Eamon, who set an example of being noble but still retaining a humble dignity. Next to him was Bann Teagan, aged prematurely by the Blight and the Breach, but still holding his head high with Ferelden pride. Across the room was Sebastian Vael, King of Starkhaven, unbidden tears in his eyes as his faith was rewarded. He smiled at me when our gazes met; the corresponding letters we had regarding his retained memory of the Construct were just one of many I had received and replied to.

The faces I continued to recognize only grew, up until the time when we were dismissed and could make our way off the raised stage we and a few other high-ranking clerics stood upon. After that it was...just another one of the motions I had to go through. A grand dinner was held afterwards for all of the nobility who wanted to wish Leliana well, whether or not it was only a hollow sentiment. I didn't want to be there, but I practiced grace nevertheless. Many people examined the new markings on my face and thanked me for defeating Corypheus once and for all. They didn't thank Leliana, or Josephine, or Cullen, Cassandra, Varric, Bull, Solas, or any of my other family members who were right there with me every step of the way. It was fine, though. I knew how we were successful, and because of that I could continue the work I was meant to accomplish. 

When the sun had been down for hours and the moon was swollen in the sky was I finally able to slip out. The rest of the Inner Circle eventually joined me, one by one, including the Divine herself. We gathered in a private parlor sectioned off just for us, and we just...talked. Our uniforms were either unbuttoned, untucked, or strewn aside completely as glasses of wine and delectable cheeses were passed around to everyone. 

"Remember when...?"

"...And then they  _exploded!"_

"Or that time..."

"...I shit you not, that's what happened! All of that fighting, and..."

"So she jumps onto his massive friggin' ax..."

"...Nobody ever could figure out who cast the spell, so the only option was to run."

"All of the sand! Maker, the sand..."

"...Somebody was going to get their eye stabbed by one of the war table pieces..."

"The memory is still clear in my head..."

"...Not a soul breathed. Nobody dared to, with the smell in the air."

"I could have snapped one of my toes off because of the cold..."

"...And then he was right there beside me, looking half-dead and even more drunk."

Reminiscing was a key sign that this was the end. That as much as I tried to refuse its arrival by putting my mind to grand ideas that lifted my spirits, it had come anyways to draw us away.  _Us._ The Inner Circle of the Inquisition. The insane bunch of people who chose to do missions instead of letting others do it for them. The ones who chose to stand beside me through thick and thin.  _Us._

They were my Home. And soon, my Home would be seeking justice in alienages, travelling with a band of mercenaries, rebuilding Kirkwall, in the midst of the Imperial Court, reforming the Seekers, changing the Imperium, going through the Joining, and tasting humanity beyond the walls of Skyhold.

And what better places could I call Home?

"Will it always be this way?" I whispered to Solas as we gathered to eat breakfast before departing back to Skyhold. Sera was cackling with Blackwall, Varric was leaning in and saying something to Cassandra that made her blush, Dorian was arguing with Iron Bull, and Vivienne was preening Cole's hair while he mildly protested. "Will it always hurt so sweetly?"

They didn't realize that last night would be the final time we would all  _really_ be together. Not like I did. It was the slight sense of premonition that I was quickly getting used to that gave me the feeling of what was coming to pass. It broke my heart and expanded it all at once.

"Yes," Solas replied just as quietly. "And nothing can remedy it, besides the ebb of time."

"I don't want to forget them. I don't want them to forget  _me,_ all that we've been through together."

"They won't." He gave my hand a slight squeeze and departed, knowing to leave me alone with my thoughts for a short while.

Solas was right. Family couldn't forget one another. And, after the day was done and bones ached with exhaustion, Home was where they would return. Whether it be physically or in the small moments that reminded them of us, Home was Home. It would never be too far away to reach. Though the tears would come later, there would never be a last goodbye. 

Sera grinned and beckoned me to join them in departure. The carriages awaited outside. "Hurry up, Ally, we won't be waitin' all day on ya!"

"That's the Inquisitor you're talking to," Blackwall put in solemnly. "She'd make the whole world wait on her, if she had to."

"Not a bad talent to have, if I must say so myself," Dorian commented.

I smirked and walked forward, hand reaching out and joining with Solas' own. "Alright, alright, just get your asses in the carriages before we're left behind."

"No," Cole said in a normal tone. "We would never be left behind."

Smiles, passing and varying and full, crossed between all of us. Maybe I wasn't the only one who knew what was coming to a close, after all.

"Come on," I said with a voice that managed not to break. "Let's go."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, this is the end. For a while, at least, until I decide if I want to write any follow-up chapters during Trespasser. I also might just wait until the next game comes out so I can go off of that. We'll see. 
> 
> To all of you amazing, lovely people who chose to read this fanfic of mine: thank you. I never thought it would go anywhere, not like it has. I never thought people would actually like it, and I definitely never thought that I would find friends because of what I had written. I don't know how I can even compare when it comes to the levels of awesomeness all of you possess. It's an honor to have a fanfic that started out on a few pieces of paper be read by you. 
> 
> Love,  
> Blue


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